


Heart Shaped Confetti

by sstensland



Category: Crash Pad (2017), Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, The Proposal AU, and stensland is the biggest one, boys are idiots, fake dating/fake relationship, fake engagement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstensland/pseuds/sstensland
Summary: Stensland's life has proved since taking the chance to move to America. That is until he forgets some paperwork and gets threatened to be deported.





	Heart Shaped Confetti

**Author's Note:**

> a huge thanks to [darthkylorevan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthkylorevan) for being the absolute best and looking this over for me and listening to me absolutely bitch about this for months. (this really wouldn't have been a thing if it weren't for her.) <3

Stensland hates Mondays; it’s always the same old routine of him waking up with a headache, running twenty minutes late, missing his bus and having to walk to work, and then proceeding to have to deal with customers with their horrendous questions. His boss, Michael, would tease him every week about looking like he just rolled out of bed—which isn’t too much of a stretch, really. He might as well have fallen asleep in his work clothes the night before. 

By the end of the day, the headache he woke up with only grew worse and all he wanted to do was curl up into his bed and spend the rest of the night binge watching Dawson’s Creek. Instead, he always finds himself walking down the street towards to the bar as if some magical force had pulled him towards it. 

It’s the same shit different day routine every week.

Stensland’s greeted by an almost empty room when he walks into the familiar bar. Soft country music plays in the background while a few sports games and NASCAR races flicker on the TVs. The bartender, Clyde, gives him a small smile as he slips into his usual stool at the bar. 

“Evenin’, Stens. The usual?” 

He’s already sliding the martini glass in front of Stensland before he even gets a chance to respond. A smile forms on his lips as he lifts the glass up and tips it in an acknowledging thanks. He takes a sip, embracing the taste of pink Starbursts and the tiniest hint of vodka. Perfect. 

“Slow night?” 

“Unfortunately. Been hoping that it would pick up.” He shrugs, focusing his attention on the glass he’s started to clean. “Suppose it’s still early.” A pause. “I’m glad to see that you made it home safe last night.”

Truth be told, Stensland doesn’t even _remember_ last night, but he’s not going to let Clyde know that. “Of course I made it home safe. Why wouldn’t I?” 

“You could barely walk out of here. I had to carry you out to your Uber.” 

And maybe Stensland does remember a little bit from last night. Vaguely remembers the strong arms holding onto him, the sturdy chest underneath his head. He remembers feeling safe, protected. “I don’t recall asking you to.”

“It’s not like I could just let you walk outta here.” 

He takes a sip of his drink. “Well, I got back to my flat just fine.” 

“Thank God. You never answered my call.” 

Stensland blinks. “You called?” 

“Yeah. You gave me your number after the third girl walked away.” Clyde pauses, turning his eyes away from Stensland as red rises up his neck. “You said I should call you if I ever wanted a good time.” 

Stensland freezes and nearly chokes on his drink. His blush takes over every inch of his skin. He doesn’t remember that. Definitely does not remember that. He’s such an idiot. “I did not.” 

“You did.” Clyde still doesn’t look at him. 

He groans, head falling into his folded arms on the counter. Stupid, absolutely _stupid_. “God, you should have sent me home then. I am so sorry.” 

His apology is greeted with silence as he continues to mentally beat himself up. When he finally gets the courage to lift his head, Clyde is looking at him again. 

“Don’t worry about it. It ain’t like it’s the first time a customer’s tried to hit on me.” 

Luckily, another customer comes up and Clyde goes off to help them so Stensland doesn’t have to worry about a response. Instead, he watches Clyde over the rim of his glass, trying not to let his gaze linger too long. His life has been fantastic since moving to America, since getting away from Vancouver, from Grady and Morgan, and finally getting out of his early life crisis. America had been a pleasant change for him: he has a decent flat and a job that’s kept him longer than the 90 day evaluation period that he was accustomed to. Hell, he had even got a promotion. A _promotion_! He’s never gotten close to one of those before. But there… there is something missing. He still didn’t have the companionship that he craved. That he so desperately yearned for. He tries, oh lord, does he try, but no matter who he talks to, what charms he brings out or lines he uses, no one ever sticks around. 

Though, there was one possibility, if he could work up the courage. He had the courage last night, apparently; something inside of him had thought that he had a chance. Maybe he should stop drinking so much. Maybe it would help prevent him from acting like such an idiot.

His teeth graze over his bottom lip, setting his drink down on the counter and turns his eyes toward one of the televisions. It was ridiculous to think that any of the attention that Clyde had given him was even a sign of any interest; Clyde is a _bartender_. Hadn’t he been the one to tell Grady all those months ago that bartenders only flirted for tips? What would make Clyde any different? 

“You okay there, sunshine?” 

Stensland nearly jumps at the voice, blinking as he focuses on Clyde. “Yeah, fine. It’s just been a long day, you know.” 

The smile that forms on his lips feels fake, but Clyde doesn’t comment. Instead, he chuckles, soft and light enough that Stensland almost misses it; the sound dances in the air, making those little butterflies flutter through him. “It certainly has been.”

“You too?” 

“Got a call from my sister earlier. I love her and all, but, she can be quite the talker when you don’t see her for a few months.” He shrugs. “I got a whole earful about how I needed to visit more often. Kinda got me missing home.” 

Home is something that Stensland hasn’t thought about in years; he left when he was eighteen and never looked back. He can’t even remember the last time he talked to his siblings. (He can, but he hasn’t let himself think of it.) “At least she cares. I haven’t heard from my family in years.” 

A strange mix of concern and curiosity dances on Clyde’s features. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s nothing,” he says, nonchalant. “Both my parents are dead, and my sister hates my guts.” It was his fault; he couldn’t deny it. He finishes off his drink. “It’s not much of a loss really.” 

Clyde looks at him for a moment. “I couldn’t imagine being that disconnected with my family.” He pours Stensland a new drink. “I’m only a few hours away now, and it gets to me. But my sister’s birthday is this weekend, so I was thinking of going down.” 

Stensland ignores the drop of disappointment that grips at him. He had thought—he was finally going to—it was a stupid idea. Even if he had worked up the courage to ask Clyde to hang out with him over the weekend (not even a date; he would have liked a date, but he could settle, test the waters), he would have said no anyway. And that… that would have been okay. Stensland could have handled that; in fact, it would have just been what he was used to. Stensland: the goofy, waifish, goatboy that no one wanted to be with. Just once, he would love to be at the top of someone’s list. 

Just _once_ would be nice.

He picks up his drink and downs half of it in one go. In the six months that he’s known Clyde, he has spent half of them trying to ask him out. Those brown eyes always looked at him with kindness, happy to see him every time he walked in the door. But Clyde is a nice guy; he greets every customer that comes in, offering them the occasional smile and goodbye wishes when they leave. He treats them all with that same Southern hospitality, and Stensland is absolutely no different. 

Stensland doesn’t realize that his sigh is audible until Clyde looks at him, eyes concerned, as he says, “Are you sure everything’s okay?” 

And he puts on his best smile, because Clyde could never know what’s really on his mind. “Yeah. I’m just thinking of something that happened at work. It’s nothing.” 

Clyde’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly, just enough to express his disbelief, but says nothing more. Just gives him one last look before going to help a new customer that’s appeared at the bar. Stensland watches after him; the lighting in the bar highlights the subtle hint of his cheekbones and the sharp edge of his jaw. He looks just as handsome as Stensland as ever seen him. 

It was ridiculous to think that he could have ever had a chance with him. 

With a defeated sigh, he looks back down at his drink. One day, he reminds himself, one day he’ll be the big, beautiful condor. One day, he’ll be the one everyone wants. 

One day, just not today. 

  


* * *

  


The furniture store is slow when he makes his way through, fine-tuning the displays and making sure everything is in their rightful place. It may seem like mundane work, just something that he should be doing to make it look like he’s busy, but he knows that there is everything in the presentation of the place. That had been drilled into his head when he first got hired by Soft Solutions fine furnishings and had stuck with him ever since; if something looked appealing to a customer, like a display of what could be in their own living room, bedroom, kitchen, whatever, they were more likely to buy it. It definitely helps his sales. 

He smiles at a customer as they enter into the room. “Good morning! How are you?” 

“I’m just looking, thank you,” they say without even giving him a second glance. Stensland takes a deep breath. It’s going to be a long day. 

“Well, if you need any help, my name is Stensland and I will be around.” He gives his best customer service smile. After two years in the industry, he likes to think he has the hang of it. This is the longest he’s ever stayed in a job field, and not to toot his own horn, but he likes to think himself an expert. 

The customer hurries away towards the sectional sofa are without a word. When it’s safe to do so, Stensland rolls his eyes. Same old, same old. 

“Customers being bitches again?” Matt asks as he enters the room; his blond hair in its usual mess of short curls and wire-framed glasses crooked. Despite his words, he has a large grin only his face. “I could go for a challenge today.” 

Stensland shakes his head, a small smile forming at his lips. “Matt, you’re already on thin ice. I can’t keep trying to vouch for you.” 

“You know as well as I do that I don’t need this job.” 

“Then, why are you here?” 

“I get bored when Techie’s not home.” He shrugs, adjusts his glasses. “And it keeps him happy knowing that I’m keeping myself out of trouble when he’s not around.” 

“Just watch your temper. I don’t want to have to explain to Michael again.” 

“Can do, Boss Jr.!” He grins. “Now, there’s a lovely woman who looks like she’s in desperate need of that new La-Z Boy set we just got in.”

Stensland shoos him off and returns to make sure the displays are set accordingly. He adjusts one of the Broyhill sofas that was off an inch. After adjusting a few of the bird statues and fake fruit displays, he checks his watch: only twenty minutes have passed. Six more hours. Six more long and miserable hours before he can leave. 

He jumps when Michael appears behind him. Clenching his chest, he tries to calm himself down and smile at Michael, who resembles a man on the verge of a panic attack. Stensland has to remind himself that his boss normally looks like that. 

“Hey, Stens? Could I talk to you for a second in my office?” Michael asks, not quite meeting his eyes. 

His breathing halts. Shit. This can’t be good. Or maybe it’s nothing. It has to be nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. “Yeah, sure.”

The journey to Michael’s office is quiet. Stensland’s heart races, echoing in his ears, as he tries to figure out what happened. Maybe he is getting fired, there are layoffs, a customer complained about the inappropriate joke he made to Matt last week. His life is just starting to look up again. And this is going to be the end of it all. 

Or maybe he’s just over thinking. There is just some information that he needs to know as store supervisor that Michael needs to inform him about. Maybe there’s a new display coming in that needs discussing. Maybe—

“Please, have a seat,” Michael says, holding the door open for Stensland and motioning towards the chairs in front of his desk. Stensland obliges, counting down from ten to calm himself down. There’s a brief silence between as Michael sits down. “So, I just got off the phone with the corporate office, and, uh, it’s not good news. It looks like your visa application is being denied and you’re going to be deported.” 

The world stops. 

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me.” He gulps, eyes pleading. “Please tell me you’re shitting me. Please, Michael.” 

“I’m sorry, Stensland. It looks like you got some paperwork messed up or didn’t get it in on time.” A broken look crosses over his normally kind and gentle face. “I tried looking into it a bit more and see if there was anything we could do for you, but,” he trails off, looking back down at his paper. “It looks like you’re going to be deported, kid.” 

Stensland’s hand rushes through his hair, over his face. It was the paperwork. It was the damned paperwork that was still sitting on his coffee table, probably under some takeout from last week. He meant to do it; even made himself a big sign to put on the door of his fridge so he wouldn’t forget. And, naturally, he forgot. He was a damned _idiot_ and he forgot. 

“Is there nothing I can do?” 

“You might be able to talk to your immigration attorney. She did say she tried calling you this morning and left a message.” A phone call from a number he didn’t recognize so he just ignored it. He ignored the call and the message, because, well, it died sometime after he had received the call, and, really, it wasn’t like he could have easily charged his phone at work anyway. Stupid, stupid Stensland. “I’m sorry, Stens. I really hate this. You’re one of my best employees and a great guy. I’d hate to see you go.” 

He groans into his hands. Going back to Ireland wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing in the world. There might have been enough time for the old wounds to heal, and bridges to have burned. He didn’t have to go back to his village where nothing but despair and regret waited for him. He leans back against the chair. It’s only been a year since he moved to America and changed his life around. The early life crisis that plagued him back in Vancouver had finally started to lift.

This is what he gets for being an optimist. 

“Maybe you can talk to Matt. His fiancé ran into a bit of trouble a few years back with his paperwork and nearly got deported as well. Though their engagement might have had something to do with it, I think. There might be some type of visa or something for engaged couples.”

Stensland blinks. “Engaged?” The gears in his brain start turning; he could solve this. Of course, he could. “I, uh, I actually got engaged a few weeks ago. Didn’t I tell you?”

Michael stares at him, brow furrowing in confusion. “No, you didn’t.” 

“Oh, yeah. I did. I thought I told you.” 

“You didn’t, but that’s great to hear! Last I heard, you had given up hope on trying to find someone.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was just... you know, really quick and sudden.” 

“You mind asking me who?” 

He freezes for a second. Shit. Who could he say? Jessica never returned any of his phone calls. Nicole left halfway through their conversation. None of the guys he’s ever looked at even acknowledged him. He goes through all the people that he’s talked to in his head. “I doubt you would know him. He’s the owner of the bar down the street, Duck Tape.”

Michael’s quiet for a moment. Too quiet for too long for Stensland’s liking. He’s already screwed this up. This is stupid. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“I didn’t realize you were into men.” 

Stensland shrugs. He’s never been too fond of flaunting his sexuality; too many bad experiences and memories surrounding it. But, he had this. It didn’t matter. It’s all a lie anyway. “It’s not a big deal, is it?”

“Oh, no! Definitely not. It’s just… you never expressed an interest in guys before.”

“Never felt a need to bring it up, I guess.” He laughs nervously. “I could barely get a girl, never mind a guy.” 

Michael makes a small noise that lies somewhere between amusement and uncertainty. “I guess that settles it then. Just get ahold of the immigration office and make it all legal.” 

Stensland blinks. “Legal?” Michael stares at him for a second, before looking at the band his boss is pointing at on his finger. Marriage, shit. “Oh, right. I’ll definitely get on that.”

What was he thinking?

  


* * *

  


He’s screwed; absolutely and positively screwed. All of this was a mistake. He could have just went ahead and tried to talk to the immigration attorney to get everything settled and straightened out, but instead, he had to make things more difficult by _lying_ and saying he was _engaged_. And not just engaged to some stranger off the street. No, he had to say he was engaged to _Clyde_.

His hands hang in fists at his side as he mutters out a slew of curses, preventing himself from actually beating himself up. God, when did he get so stupid?

Stensland’s hands shake as he makes his first steps into Duck Tape. This isn’t going to work at all; he knows it’s not. He may think he knows Clyde well enough, they were friendly with one another, but that didn’t mean that they were even friends. It might be different if Stensland had worked up the courage to ask Clyde to just hang out sometime when he wasn’t working, but seeing as he failed even that…

Well… he guesses this motivates him now. 

But Clyde could still refuse to help him. Could be absolutely disgusted with him and kick him out of the bar forever. 

No, he needs to at least say _something_. Play it off as a joke even. He’s a condor; he’s grown and blossomed since Vancouver. And even if Clyde says no, then he’ll figure something else out. 

The soft sound of Bob Segar greets him when he walks into the bar. A few people chatter around him and his eyes immediately fall on Clyde. The man smiles, small and soft, at him as he waves his hand in greeting. God, how was he going to get through this?

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna show up.” 

His drink is already in front of him by the time he sits down at the bar. Stensland tries to smile back at him. He doesn’t think he succeeds with the way Clyde’s eyebrows furrow and the soft smile slipping from his face. 

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” 

Stensland cringes at the nickname, ignoring the blush taking over his cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak, to lie, but the words cling to the top of his tongue, refusing to be let out into the open. Instead, he takes his drink and downs it in one go. Liquid courage, right? 

“Nothing,” he says with a shake of his head. “I just…” he pauses, focusing his eyes on the stem of his glass. He has to say something. “I just…” He takes a deep breath. He can do this. He _needs_ to do this. “Look, I need you to do me a huge favor.” 

Any trace of a smile on Clyde’s lips fades as the serious demeanor that’s always intimidated Stensland takes over his features. “What is it?” 

Stensland doesn’t know where to start. All the words muddle in his head and the ability to form a coherent sentence becomes lost to him. It is still possible that he could find someone else. The only problem is, Clyde’s the only bartender he knows well enough. And, _fuck_ , he thinks he even said him specifically. 

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. Counts to three. He can do this. “I...Will—I need you to marry me.” 

“What?” 

Stensland runs his hands over his hair, avoiding Clyde’s gaze. “I… Will you marry me? Or pretend to marry me? I… my visa is expired and I’m—I’m going to be deported. My manager made some comment about marriage and engagements. And I don’t know. I told him that we—that you—that we were engaged. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. You don’t have to do this. Just—just forget I ever asked.” 

Those wide brown eyes that Stensland’s been avoiding since he started talking stare him down, narrowing just a bit as he tries to process the information. “You’re gonna be deported?”

A pause. A heartbeat. “Yes.”

“And you told them that we were engaged?”

Stensland grimaces. “Yes.”

Silence falls over them, and it does nothing to help the whirlwind of nerves that creep through him. It’s ruined this. Any possible chance that he could have had with Clyde is completely out the door now. Stensland is going to have to find a new bar and new friends because Clyde is not going to want to see him ever again. All because he had to open his big mouth before even _thinking_.

“So, all I gotta do is pretend to be engaged to you?” 

“I think so,” he says after a moment’s pause. “I think—I think we’ll actually have to get married, but we can get a quickie divorce after I get my green card.” 

Clyde just stares at him with an intense gaze. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. He really has ruined everything. Of course, he has. He’s going to lose the one thing he could call a friend. He was stupid for letting this happen. For letting his stupid mouth open before he had even thought of the consequences—he should have learned about that so long ago—and for forgetting about his paperwork. 

“You really don’t have to do this. I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“Will you stop apologizing?” A smile crosses over Clyde’s, small like every other smile he’s ever given him, like he’s holding back, and it conjures a swarm of little butterflies in Stensland’s stomach. He doesn’t say anything right away, but after what feels like an eternity, he says, “I’ll do it.”

There’s no way Stensland could have heard him correctly. “What?” 

Clyde lets out a light laugh. “I’ll do it; I’ll marry you.”

“What? No. You don’t have to.” Stensland stares, dumbfounded. “I—I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. It was stupid of me. I’ll—I’ll figure something out.” 

“Stensland.”

He finally meets those brown eyes. Whatever words were going to come out freeze at the tip of his tongue. The warmth that settles in Clyde’s eyes fill him; he tries not to think of it. “Clyde?” 

“Just let me do this for you, okay? It’s no problem at all.” 

All Stensland can do is stare at him. This is… this is great. Fantastic, even. “You really are the best.” 

Clyde smiles and refills his drink. 

  


* * *

  


His fingers drum against his thighs. The line at the immigration office is longer than he had anticipated. He doesn’t want to wait; he just wants to get this done and over with. Thankfully, Clyde is patient. He stays beside him the whole time, eyes taking in everything. A strong, steady hand rests on top of his, thumb rubbing a small path along the back of his hand that’s enough to stop the impatient tapping of Stensland’s fingers, but his mind continuously lingers on it. 

“Next.”

He jumps at the voice, heart accelerating against his chest. He freezes, wide-eyed before he feels Clyde’s hand slip off of him as he stands up. With a deep breath, he follows. Everything is going to be okay, he reassures himself. 

“Yes, hi, uh, I need to file this fiancé visa.” He puts the papers down on the counter. The woman looks at him before she turns her attention toward the papers, the polite smile never leaving her lips. 

“Mr. O’Malley?” she asks as she looks between the two of them. “We have been trying to get ahold of you. If you could just follow me, please.” 

Gulping, he nods his head. This can’t be good. Not at all. Their cover is already blown. Their charade never had a single chance.

Clyde’s hand hovers over his lower back, barely touching. The warmth of Clyde’s skin radiates through his shirt. His mind focuses on that as they’re brought to a small office down a long hallway. He doesn’t know if that’s any better. This is not going the way he wanted to. It was supposed to be easy. They’d fill out the paperwork, turn it in, maybe answer a few questions. That would have been it. There could have been an elopement, and a quickie divorce and everything would have been good. They could have gone on with their lives. 

Two chairs sit in front of a small desk. Stensland follows Clyde’s suit and sits down in one of them. The woman tells them that Ms. Grayson would be right in to see them. When she leaves, Stensland’s leg begins to bounce with anticipation. This was a horrible idea. They couldn’t pull this off. He was ridiculous for even thinking such a thing could be possible. 

It’s only a few minutes before another woman comes in. Her hair falls into her face in long, loose waves and her suit looks more expensive than anything Stensland has ever owned. He gives her a bright, confident smile. She returns the gesture. 

“Good morning, boys. I’m Ms. Grayson and I’m going to be your case worker. Your office gave me a call earlier,” she says before moving her attention towards Clyde. “You must be the fiancé?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He shakes her hand, polite and proper; a perfect gentleman. “Clyde Logan.” 

“It’s a pleasure meeting you both.” She takes a seat at her desk, putting the manilla folder in her hands on the desk and opening it. She puts on a pair of glasses and picks up a sheet of paper. “I did try getting a hold of you a few days ago, Mr. O’Malley, but you didn’t answer any of your calls. It seems like you had forgotten some of your paperwork that was due last week.” She looks at him with a slight sternness. “I did also receive a call from Michael Pannesco to update me on the situation. He did have a few concerns on the matter.” 

“Concerns?” 

“Yes.” She pulls forward another piece of paper. “He thought you might have been lying.” 

“I—what?—I would never, Ms. Grayson.” 

“I would never accuse either of you of such a thing, not until we have gotten through all the details. However, we do have things we have to process through before all of this is given the okay. I will have to interview the both of you, separately. As well as your friends and families.” She leans back in her hair; the accusation, the disbelief, sharp in her dark eyes. “With Mr. Pannesco’s concerns, I do have to warn you both, if you are found to be lying, that will be considered a felony with a fine of up to $250,000 and up to five years in federal prison.” 

Stensland feels his jaw drop. Shit. Michael never seemed like he didn’t believe him. Maybe he thought that it would be better to play it safe? Just in case. Or maybe Stensland should have actually thought the plan out more. Who would have known that they would have taken such extreme actions like this?

“Everything okay, Stensland?” 

“Ye-yeah, I—” The words catch in his throat. 

Clyde reaches out and puts a reassuring hand on Stensland’s. The gentle stroke of his thumb against the back of his hand calms him down more than he cares to admit. “I think you just scared him some, Ms. Grayson. We haven’t told anyone. I haven’t lived here for too long and he hasn’t met my family yet.” 

She nods, grabbing a pen and making a note on her paper. “Where are you from, Mr. Logan?” 

“Boone County, West Virginia, ma’am.” 

“I see, and you’re saying that you have not told them yet?” 

“Correct. I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to them much since moving. We did have plans on going down this weekend. It’s my sister’s birthday and I thought I could surprise her when we went down there.” 

“So, you’ll both be going to West Virginia?” 

Stensland looks over at Clyde, curious of his answer. He doesn’t remember ever talking about this.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And what about you, Mr. O’Malley? Have you told any of your family?” 

Stensland gulps. “Both my parents are dead, and I haven’t talked to any of my other family in years.” 

Ms. Grayson nods her head and jots something down on the paper. “Well, I wish you two safe travels, then,” she says with a soft smile. “I will see you guys sometime next week, then. I’ll give you a call when I get a chance to schedule an appointment.” 

  


* * *

  


Stensland cannot wait to get out of the building. His heartbeat echoes in his ears as it threatens to break out of his chest. His fingers tremble as he reaches out to open the door. Taking a deep breath, he steps out into the street. A gentle hand falls onto his back. Gentle. Hesitant. He almost melts into the touch. 

“Hey, Stens, it’s going to be okay.” 

“How could you be so calm? Jail time! _Jail time_! I am so, so sorry. If I had known, I never would have asked.” 

Clyde chuckles. “It’s fine. I’ve gone through worse.” 

Stensland’s not too sure he wants to know. “Where did you learn to be that confident?” 

“I’m not. Me and my brother… we used to get into all sorts of trouble when we were kids. He used to do all the talking. We got out of most of it thanks to him. And my sister… well, she’s still getting into trouble, I s’pose, but always been a sweet talker. I spent a lotta years watching them.” He pauses for a second as if contemplating his next words. “And, y’know, need to keep your wits about you when you’re out on the battlefield.” 

Stensland nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “Thank you, again, for doing this.” 

“No problem, Stensland. Anything for my favorite customer.” 

He tries to ignore the blush that stains his cheeks. Ignore the butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He means nothing by it. “So, your siblings… I guess I’ll be meeting them?” 

“I… yeah, sorry about that.” Clyde darts his eyes away, reaching a hand up to comb through his hair. “I figured since I was going down anyway, you could tag along. You really don’t have to go… I just thought it would buy us some time to, y’know, work out our relationship for the interviews and the whatnot. I understand if you don’t want to.” 

The idea processes through his mind for a second. There’s really nothing keeping him here for the weekend. His friends are all off being responsible adults that are working on their relationships and families. He’s not able to return to work until he gets this all straightened out, and his favorite bartender is running off to West Virginia. All he had ahead of him was too many hits from his bong and a few dates with his hand, some lotion, and a box of tissues. A marathon of Dawson’s Creek, too. This could work out for them. Besides, hadn’t he been the one who wanted to see Clyde outside the bar anyway?

“Yeah, I’ll go.” 

  


* * *

  


The nerves that had been plaguing him since their meeting with Ms. Grayson had almost diminished by the time Clyde picked him up from his apartment Friday morning. He tried his best to rummage through his closet to find his best clothing—anything without a trace of stains or holes; he actually wanted to make a _decent_ first impression, after all. For everything to work out, he needs Clyde’s family to like him. 

His fingers fumble with the loose strands on the strap of his messenger bag, evening out his breathing with a steady count of ten. He has to be positive, got to look at the bright side and everything will be okay. 

The sight of Clyde’s pick up truck nearly crashes his progress, but he reminds strong. _Condor_ , he reminds himself, _I’m a big, beautiful condor_.

His old therapist would be so proud of him. 

He’s branched out from his routine. It may have been the result of some unforeseen circumstances, but he was still branching out. 

The drive to West Virginia takes longer than Stensland expects. Some type of ridiculous American holiday or something causes a few traffic jams on the highway and, as Stensland found out, Clyde has a slight bit of road rage. He could have been amused, but he grew worrisome whenever he saw his fist clench at the steering wheel and his jaw tighten. Stensland tried his best to distract him, to ask him questions about his home, about growing up, about his family. The little details he would need to know if they were going to pretend to be a legit couple. It seemed to work most of the time. 

In the three hours it takes to drive into what appears to be the middle of nowhere, Stensland gets more and more anxious. The more he hears about Clyde’s family, the more he starts to miss his own. He tells Clyde as much; despite acting like it never bothers him, it does. His sister and he had been close growing up, but ever since the accident…

When Clyde asks about it, Stensland changes the subject. Clyde doesn’t bring it up again. 

They finally pull into a driveway after what seems like miles and miles of trees and dirt roads that had Stensland thinking the worst, that perhaps his worst fear was about to come true: Clyde actually was some serial killer and this was where he took his victims when they got comfortable enough, that this would be the last breath he would ever take. But as the woods eventually clear into a large valley of green grass and a small pond, Stensland feels himself breath again. 

He looks around the landscape. A two-story white house sits close to the water’s edge and it’s possibly one of the nicest houses Stensland has ever seen; he can’t help but stare at it. 

“It’s really something, ain’t it?” Clyde asks as he pulls the trunk up to the front of the garage. Stensland nods. “Mellie’s been waiting years for this place to be done.”

“It’s nice,” Stensland says and the nerves start to take a hold of him again. This is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He’s an asshole. A certified asshole for even thinking that this could have been a good idea. 

Clyde glances at him. “Everything okay?” 

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” He offers his best smile. Stensland is more than aware that he’s failed. He’s never been a good liar—that was going to be their downfall. 

He takes a deep breath. He needs to stop thinking about this. If he keeps thinking, something will go wrong and he’ll be on the next plane to Ireland. With a blink of his eye, he collects his courage. It’s too late to turn back now. At least, he’s thankful that, from the sound of them, Clyde’s family isn’t totally awful. He can only hope. “Shall we?” 

Clyde nods, turning the engine off. Stensland’s heart pounds against his chest even though he thinks he’s calmed himself down. He needs to stop. He’s going to ruin this before they’ve even had the chance. 

They get out of the car in silence. Clyde grabs their bags from the back. Stensland repeats his mantra in his head: _and one day you’ll bloom_. It helps him some, keeps his heart beating at a normal pace, keeps his mind from overthinking. And things are good, great even.

Until a skinny woman comes running out the door and all but tackles Clyde. He fumbles, letting out a small laugh as he manages to wrap his arms around her. 

“Hey Mel. Missed you too.” 

“I’m so glad you could make it.” Her smile is bright and vibrant. Stensland tries not to stare, but the bright neon pink color of her lace top draws his attention in. Heat rises to his cheeks when she looks in his direction. 

Clyde still has that smile on his face when they pull apart, wider than Stensland’s ever seen; the light of the happiness dancing in his eyes. There’s a boyish charm written over his face that makes something in Stensland’s chest ache. 

He watches, nervously, awkwardly, as Clyde directs Mellie’s attention. His teeth bite at the inside of his lip just before putting on the best charming smile that he can. 

“Mellie, this is Stensland, my boyfriend.” Shit. Right. He didn’t mention that they’re engaged. Why would he? It would have only made things easier. “Stens, this is Mellie.”

Mellie doesn’t miss a beat when she steps forward and pulls him into a hug. “I’m so happy to meet you. You’re much cuter than how Clyde was describing you.” Stensland hesitates before wrapping his arms around her tiny frame to return the hug. “It’s so nice to hear Clyde happy again. He hasn’t stopped talking about you for weeks.” 

Stensland blinks. Clyde’s been talking about him? About _him_? For _weeks_? He looks over at Clyde, who is looking anywhere but at him. Pink stains his skin as he shrugs. What could Clyde possibly even be talking about him for weeks about? He’s not that interesting. Maybe to complain about him always being in the bar and always telling some lame story about what happened at work or some crude joke when he had too much to drink. But… no. None of it makes sense. 

He bottles up the confusion enough to respond. “That’s good. It’s always so hard to tell with him. He always looks so serious.”

Mellie laughs. “He’s always been that way. Jimmy and I reckon that he got it from our daddy. He was a stern-looking guy, too, but both of them have got a heart of gold.” 

He sneaks a glance over at Clyde, who’s now waiting patiently waiting next to Mellie with both of their bags. The tips of his ears are still pink where they poke out through his hair like he’s still embarrassed. Stensland catches his eye and Clyde immediately looks away. 

“Mind if we go in?” Clyde asks, trying to turn the attention elsewhere. “It’s been a long ride and I’m starving.” 

“Oh, yeah. Come on.” Mellie smiles and ushers them forward. “Sorry ‘bout the mess,” she says as they walk through the door, “Joe’s been trying to put some finishing touches on the house and Clyde here decided not to tell us if he was coming down ‘til last night.” She sends Clyde a quick glare that he shrugs off. Stensland doesn’t think that the place looks too bad. At least the mess consists of paint and work tools neatly pushed against one wall and not the vast amounts of takeout boxes on the counter like he’s accustomed to. “Come with me, I’ll show you guys to your room.” 

They fall into an easy silence as they make their way down a long hallway. There are a few pictures that are hung up on the wall; old childhood photos that he’s able to catch quick glances of. There’s one of an older couple that Stensland assumes is their parents. 

The room Mellie leads them into is larger than his whole studio apartment. Soft beige walls are accented with a dark wood trim and a matching dresser and night tables. A large, king-sized bed sits against the wall facing the window. The room looks great, Stensland thinks, if it weren’t for the hideous multicolored rug that sits in the middle of the floor. 

“You’re lucky we were able to finish this room before you guys arrived,” Mellie says as she opens the blinds, letting the sunlight shine into the room. “There are some extra blankets in the closet along with some spare towels. The door over there leads to the bathroom and should be fully stocked for you guys.”

Stensland wants to make a comment about sleeping in a separate room, but would that come off as weird? He doesn't know if he can handle sharing a bed with Clyde; what if he wakes up with some morning wood? What if he talks in his sleep and confesses something he shouldn’t? He gulps as he bites down on his lip. 

“Now, I’m gonna leave you two be. I’m sure y’all are tired from the drive.” Stensland doesn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Dinner’s gonna be in an hour, and just so you guys know, this room is far enough away for your guys to be as loud as you’d like.” 

Every part of him turns to fire at the words. She disappears from the room, closing the door behind her. He feels like dying. What was he thinking? Clyde is far too good for him; completely out of his leagues by all standards. How he even managed to get this far is beyond him. 

He collapses on the bed, the plush mattress engulfing him as he runs his hands over his face. 

“You okay, Stens?” 

He groans. “This was a horrible idea.” Maybe not as bad as the idea he had gotten with the whole Grady Incident, but enough to make him internally hate himself for the next three years. What had even encouraged him to do this? Oh, right. That ridiculous crush he was fostering. “It’s not too late to cancel all this, is it?” 

“Hey, don’t worry yourself too much.” The mattress next to him dips with Clyde’s weight followed by a gentle caress on his shoulder. “It’s just a weekend, right? It’s just—We—We only have to this weekend, yeah? Just gotta be convincing enough to make my family believe it and that lawyer there.” He clears his throat and runs a hand over his hair. “And don’t mind Mellie too much. She’s just excited. It’s, uhm, been a while since I brought someone home.” 

Stensland raises an eyebrow. “Really? A dashing guy like you certainly has to have a pretty thing attached to his arm every night.”

“No, actually.” He laughs, the tips of his ears turning red. “I haven’t had a real date in a few years now. Definitely not since moving.” 

“Really?”

“Yup. Last boyfriend I had told me I was an awful partner.” 

“I doubt there’s any truth in that.” 

Clyde just shrugs, getting up from the bed and turning his attention to his luggage. Stensland wants to ask more, wants to know more, but he doesn’t know how to ask. He knows well enough that he’s a shit boyfriend—he forgets birthdays, says all the wrong things, gets high too often—but Clyde? Stensland can’t see it. He’s been nothing but kind and polite. Hell, he even remembered Stensland’s birthday last month when Stensland couldn’t even remember having told him. 

Clyde pulls out his phone to check the time. “I suppose we ought to unpack a bit and get ready for supper.” He rummages through his bag again. “I’m gonna go shower.” He heads off into the side room without another word. 

Stensland watches after him before turning his attention back towards the ceiling. This is going to be a long three days.

  


* * *

  


Dinner, as it turns out, is Chinese from a place down the street: Clyde’s favorite, apparently. They pass around the takeout boxes and make idle chat with one another. Most of the attention stays on Clyde, much to Stensland’s enjoyment: questions about his move and the bar expansion, or if he misses home yet. Jimmy shares a few stories of Sadie, his daughter who Stensland was informed he’d be meeting at the party tomorrow. 

It’s a nice family dinner and Stensland feels like he’s invading. 

“Clyde, tell me,” Jimmy starts as he helps himself to a second helping, “how are things going up there?” 

“Good. Bar’s doing well.” 

Stensland tunes out the rest of the conversation. Instead, he focuses on his beef and broccoli, pushing the food around occasionally when he can’t find his appetite. His thoughts swirl around in his head, whispering the insecurities that have been threatening him all day; they’ll never succeed, they can’t. 

At one point, Clyde freezes in his spot next to him. Stensland looks over at him curiously, watches as he swallows down hard on his food. “No. I told you, Jimmy. Those days are over.” 

Jimmy examines him; those piercing blue eyes are enough to make Stensland squirm, but Clyde stays as calm as ever. Curiosity takes over Stensland, crashing in like a wave; he should have been paying attention. 

“So, Stensland, right?” He nearly jumps at the sound of his own name, barely managing to keep his heart from racing out of his chest. Stensland turns to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “Tell us some more about yourself,” he says through a mouthful of lo mein.

He swallows hard on the piece of beef he had been chewing. “Oh, um, I don’t know. There’s really not much to tell.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I grew up in Ireland, moved to Canada when I was 18. Took a few university classes before dropping out. Things weren’t going so well up there, so I decided to move to the States.” He shrugs. “I can assure you I’m plenty boring.” 

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a supervisor at a furniture store.” 

“And how did you too meet?” 

“Oh, um.” He sneaks a glance over at Clyde. They really should have discussed this more. “At his bar, actually. A friend dragged me along opening night and ended up ditching me.” 

“And it was just love at first sight, wasn’t it?” teases Mellie from next to him. 

A blush rises to Stensland’s cheeks as he glances over at Clyde, meeting a face full of curiosity. No, Stensland would never say that it was love at first sight. A small crush in the slightest, maybe, but definitely not love. He learned better than to fall for that. It hadn’t been until the polite, nice, somber-looking bartender smiled, laughed even, at one of his jokes that his heart skipped a beat. Stensland tries not to think about it. 

Why did Clyde say yes to this? Did he know of Stensland’s crush and wanted to humiliate him? 

He gives his fake boyfriend a smile. “Something like that.” 

Lightness flickers through Clyde’s eyes and a smile lingers over his lips. A light pressure covers over his hand. When he looks, he sees Clyde’s black prosthetic hand resting there. He tries to fight off the panic that tries to soar through him. This is what they’re supposed to be doing. They’re dating. They’re _engaged_. Signs of affection are perfectly normal and needed for their facade. Clyde has this mastered so much better than he has.

Their eyes lingers together for longer than they should; an act in the charade that has Stensland’s stomach fluttering again.

“Has he told you about that Logan family curse of his, yet?” Mellie asks as she sneaks a peek at Clyde.

“Please, Mellie,” Clyde pleads, but Stensland’s interest has already been piqued. 

“Family curse, eh?”

Now, it’s Clyde’s turn to groan. 

“Oh, my god. He’s been on it for years. Got absolutely convinced that there’s some curse on our family that gives us bad luck or something,” she elaborates. “it’s got something to do with our great granddaddy and some diamond or something; completely ridiculous if you ask me, but after Jimmy’s knee going out and Clyde’s hand, it’s all he ever talked about.” 

“What happened with Jimmy’s knee?”

“Busted it down at LSU. Tryna to show off to some NFL scouts.” Jimmy shrugs and shoves a fork full of chicken into his mouth. “Shit happens. Clyde kept trying to say it was that damned curse.” 

“Our family’s run of bad luck has gotta be more than coincidence, you gotta admit that.” He pauses for a second, the robotic finger coming to life to wrap around Stensland’s hand. “But I think my days of curses are done.” He looks over at Stensland, pink coloring over his cheeks. For a second, Stensland almost finds it endearing before he pushes the thought away. Clyde keeps his attention on Stensland, teeth grazing at his bottom lip before turning backwards his siblings. “I, uh. We actually have an announcement to make.” 

The room quiets down around them; not even the sound of the plastic cutlery hitting the paper plates break the silence, just the erratic pounding of his heart. 

“Stensland and I are getting married.” 

All eyes are on him—on them—waiting, judging. Once again, he’s reminded how horrible of an idea this is. Worrying his teeth into his bottom lip, he picks at the untouched lo mein on his plate with his fork.

Jimmy’s the first to speak. “Already?”

Speculation is thick and heavy in his voice; disbelief takes over every part of his face. Maybe Stensland would have been better off asking Lyle to help. Linda and him weren’t married yet. Though, that might have taken a lot more convincing than Clyde. Lyle may have been his best friend, but he certainly did not always willingly go along with Stensland’s ideas. 

Mellie nudges Jimmy in the side and glares at him. “Jimmy, please.” 

“Yes.” Clyde’s voice is short, to the point. His eyes are still on Stensland, and there’s a warmth over his expression that brings out those damned butterflies again. Clyde is a better actor than he had ever given him credit for. Clyde turns his attention to Jimmy. “Thought you woulda been proud of me. You always talked about how I should find someone.” 

The gentle pressure of Clyde’s hand is enough to keep him seated. Stensland never did well with families; not even his own. Always awkward and out of place. He chances a glance around the table, immediately catching Jimmy’s accusatory eyes. He gulps and tries to give an innocent smile. 

“Oh, stop it, Jimmy. You’re gonna scare the poor kid.” Mellie smacks his arm lightly with a glare. By the time she looks over at the two of them, she’s smiling. Well, at least one of Clyde’s siblings like him. “So. Tell us about the proposal.” 

Clyde looks over at him. “You wanna go ahead with this, Stens? I know how much you love telling it.” 

“Yeah, sure.” He puts down his fork to hide his trembling hands. This wasn’t something that he had thought of. What was he supposed to say? With a deep breath, he starts, “Okay, where to begin.” A nervous chuckle. “So, Clyde and I, we were about to celebrate our six month anniversary, and just…. It was the sweetest thing, really. Clyde had been acting a bit strange, and I thought it was just because he was homesick. He had mentioned wanting to come here a few days before, so I thought nothing of it.” He bites his lip, takes another quick glance over at Clyde in hopes of getting help. None comes. “Anyway, we went out to dinner—nothing too unusual. So, uh, after dinner, we go back to his place. And, I don’t… I don’t know how he did it, but he turns on the light and there’s rose petals and these little heart shaped confetti everywhere.” He puts on a little smile, ignores the nervous sick feeling in his stomach. “When I turned back to Clyde, he was down on one knee. He had no ring, but that was okay. Everything else was like a dream.” He looks over at Clyde; amusement sparks in his eyes as his face tries to react appropriately. Stensland’s not too sure that he succeeds, but Clyde hadn’t tried to interrupt him when he told it. “Obviously, I said yes.” 

Stensland adjusts his hand to lace his fingers with Clyde’s mechanical ones. The prosthetic material cool and smooth under his touch, gentle as his fingers curl around his hand. 

“Heart shaped confetti huh, Clyde? Haven’t you become quite the romantic?” Mellie teases from behind her wine glass.

Clyde chuckles. “What can I say? Stens has brought out the worst in me.” 

He leans over and presses the softest of touches of his lips to Stensland’s cheek. His skin burns where Clyde’s lips were. The butterflies swarm through his system again. Maybe this is what it would be like to actually be dating Clyde; gentle warm touches of skin and lips and carbon fiber. It’s something Stensland could find himself growing used to it. 

“Well, it’s good to see you happy again.” 

  


* * *

  


Stensland runs a towel over his hair to dry it as he steps out of the bathroom. He places the towel as neatly as he can on the dresser, keeping in mind that this is not his own place and that he can’t just go throwing things around like he normally would. His fingers rush through his hair to tame down the mess a bit. 

Clyde is kneeling at the edge of the bed, arranging a display of blankets and pillows down there. Confusion takes over Stensland’s features. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You can have the bed.” 

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. You should have the bed.” He pauses for a second, looking back and forth between and Clyde. “And, well, there looks like there’s enough room for the two of us anyway.” 

“It’s fine, Stens. I’ve slept on worse.” 

Stensland bites at his lip, eyes adverting back and forth between Clyde and the bed. “Are you absolutely sure?” 

“Yes.” He grabs the blanket and sits on the floor at the base of the bed. “Don’t you go worrying about me.” 

He lays down without another word, his long limbs stick out from the small blanket he’s grabbed. For a second, he considers offering Clyde the larger blanket. Stensland doesn’t need such a big blanket anyway. He decides against it, not wanting to listen to Clyde’s denials. Instead, he curls himself under the blanket in a bed that’s far too nice and far too big. 

He goes to wish Clyde a goodnight, but the second his eyes slip shut, he falls straight to sleep.

  


* * *

  


He wakes up disoriented. The dark room around him is unfamiliar, neat and organized. His normal view of the small kitchenette gone from site. The bed underneath him is too soft to be his own. It’s completely possible he fell asleep at some lady’s house. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Blindly, he reaches out to grab his phone. _3:58 A.M._ , the screen tells him with a blinding light. He groans and falls flat on the bed. A hand runs over his face, brushing the hair out of his eyes, as he racks his brain for information. Right. West Virginia because he’s a damned idiot who thought that asking Clyde to marry him so he wouldn’t get kicked out of the country was a brilliant idea. He really needs to start thinking about plans better. 

Sure, Clyde may be one of the most attractive men he’s ever seen. Who also happened to laugh at his dumb jokes and smiled every time he saw him. None of that meant anything though. Clyde is nice. Too nice, really. That’s all that meant. 

All of this is going to end in a disaster.

A low noise comes from the foot of the bed. Stensland freezes before he remembers that Clyde’s sleeping there. The noise comes again: a soft cry. He sits up. 

“Clyde?” he whispers softly into the air. No response. 

Carefully, he gets up from the bed and moves to where Clyde’s sleeping. His faux-fiancé lies curled up in a ball, clenching hard against the blanket. His hair flares out on the pillow around him, bits clinging to his dampened forehead. Stensland’s tempted to brush it away. Another small whimper comes from him. 

“Clyde?” he tries again as he kneels down on the floor beside him. 

Still no response. 

Clyde tosses in his sleep. His hair falls back from his face. His nose flares as he breathes, eyebrows twitching as a groan slips out. Stensland gulps. A nightmare, Clyde is having a nightmare. He knows all too well of them; his sister had been plagued by them in her youth, and Stensland tried so hard to help her. That was long before their quarrels and mistrusts. Long before he had run away from everything after the accident. 

Stensland raises a gentle hand and brushes away the few strands of hair still clinging to Clyde’s forehead, ignoring the cold and damp feeling on his fingertips. He bites down on his lip. Gently, he lets his fingers slide along the curve of Clyde’s face until they reach the soft stubble along his jawline. His heart picks up its pace. There’s a small part of him that’s telling him to go back to bed. That he shouldn’t worry about Clyde; he’s a grown man and can take care of himself. But Stensland doesn’t stop himself as he lies on the ground next to Clyde. Doesn’t stop himself from letting his hand fall down and rest against his chest, feeling the heartbeat underneath it. Doesn’t stop himself from letting his eyes shut. 

He falls back to sleep against his better judgement. 

  


* * *

  


When his eyes open again, he’s in the bed again. He untangles himself from the sheets as he tries to reorient himself with the world. His eyes flutter open at the scent of coffee that hits his nose. Clyde is the first thing his eyes focus on. Tall and wide as he stands next to the bed, putting something down on the nightstand. When he notices that Stensland’s awake, he turns towards him with a soft smile. 

“Morning’, sunshine.” 

Stensland returns the greeting. Or, at least, he tries through a yawn, Clyde tries not to laugh. 

“I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee, so I just kinda guessed.” 

His eyes look over at the cup at the table. A smile makes its way onto his lips. “Thanks.” 

Clyde smiles at him before he starts to walk away. Biting at his lip, he grabs the coffee mug and uses his free hand to keep the blanket wrapped around him. He takes a sip to distract himself from staring at the way Clyde’s shirt clings to his biceps; it’s sweet and creamy, less like coffee and more like coffee-flavored milk. It’s perfect. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on anything that isn’t Clyde. The attempt doesn’t last long. 

“Hey Clyde?”

He stops just before the door. “Yeah?” 

“Are you, I mean, is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“Last night, you were… you were crying in your sleep.”

Clyde looks away from him, running a hand over his hair. Stensland bites at his lip and looks down at his mug; he shouldn’t have brought it up. No, no, he shouldn’t have. 

“It’s nothing,” Clyde finally says, with a shrug. “I get nightmares, sometimes, still.” His gaze never meet Stensland’s. “No need to go worrying about me.” 

Stensland opens his mouth to say something but decides against it. He feels ashamed for asking. He was taught better than this. His mother would have been so disappointed. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the packet full of questions that they’re meant to be going over for their inevitable interview. She would have so many reasons to be disappointed with him if she was alive.

“I’m sorry,” Stensland says when he’s finally worked up the ability to look at Clyde, who has started busying himself with digging through one of his bags. “Did you want to talk about it?”

“I’m fine, Stensland,” Clyde tries to reassure him. “They come and go, the dreams. Have been for years now.” He shrugs, nonchalant.

“Isn’t there a medicine or something you could or something?” 

“I’ve tried but…” he shakes his head, letting the heavy silence fill in the air between them. “Stensland, I’m fine. I promise. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Clyde finally grabs a few pieces of clothing from his bag. “Are you hungry?” he starts, trying to change the subject. “I was gonna make some breakfast in a little bit.” 

As if on cue, Stensland’s stomach growls. A blush forms on his cheeks. “Yes.” 

“Just lemme shower real quick and I’ll get started on that,” he says before disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. 

Stensland turns back to his coffee and tries to clear his mind. He remains seated on the bed, listening to the shower run through the closed door. This can work, he reminds himself. At least one of his plans has to work in his lifetime. 

With a sigh, he gets up and starts to get ready. 

  


* * *

  


Stensland watches as Clyde cooks, watches as his broad shoulders hunch over and his biceps nearly threaten to stretch in the material of his shirt; his shirt that is just a hair too short and rises each time he goes to reach for something overhead, exposing the toned muscle of his abdomen, and Stensland knows that he shouldn’t be staring. He was taught better than that. But Clyde looks good. He looks good cooking, hunched over the stove with a bit of his hair pulled back from his face, in his tight shirt and cargo shorts. He’s looked good from the moment he stepped out of the bathroom with his hair in damp waves around his face and smelling of whatever woodsy, spicy soap that he used. 

If he hadn’t been aware of his attraction to Clyde, he definitely would have been aware now. This trip has made everything worse. He can feel himself actually starting to wish that he could be in a relationship with Clyde. And Stensland has never been good with relationships. After a few months, he always got the line of “It’s not you, it’s me.” He’s gotten accustomed to it. Things would be no different with Clyde. If they make it through this weekend, if they make it through the interview, if they make it through the wedding, Clyde will be ready for that divorce. 

Stensland ignores the way his stomach drops at the thought of it. 

“It smells good,” he says as he stands up from his stool and the breakfast bar and puts his mug in the sick. “Have you always cooked?” 

Clyde shrugs. “Here and there. I’m not much good, but it’s nice to do something.” 

He watches as Clyde flips over the last pancake. “What kind are they?” 

“Strawberry.” 

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Did I drunkenly tell you that those were my favorite?’

“No,” Clyde says with a small chuckle, “just had a hunch. You like them strawberry drinks so much.” 

Stensland tries not to blush, tries to not let his overthink it. Clyde pays attention; he always has his drink ready when he walks in the door. Of course, Clyde would know.

Clyde flips the final pancake on top the other three on the plate next him, and pushes it towards Stensland. “Breakfast is served.”

“Thank you.”

“‘S no problem.” Clyde gives him a small smile before grabbing his coffee and taking a drink from it.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” 

“I ate earlier. Figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.” 

“You didn’t have to go through the trouble.” 

“It was no trouble.” 

Warmth floods him as he takes the plate. Clyde is far too nice. Far, far too nice for someone who’s being threatened with five years in jail. He takes a deep breath and pushes the thought out of his head. He has to stop. If he keeps thinking about it, he’ll set himself up for disappointment. If he keeps thinking about it, he’ll actually start thinking that Clyde likes him too, and he can’t bear thinking about that.

He spreads some butter onto the pancakes before taking a bite. The warm, sweet taste fills his mouth and he has to stop himself from practically moaning at the taste alone. “These are the best damned pancakes I’ve ever had,” he says after swallowing. “I think they might even be better than what my Ma used to make. Why didn’t you tell me you were a good cook?” 

Clyde’s smile is slow to form on his lips as pink stains his skin. “Thank you. But you can just thank Aunt Jemima. It’s really not that hard.” 

Stensland blinks as he takes another bite. “Last time I tried cooking, I burnt water.” 

“Maybe I could teach you sometime,” he offers with a soft laugh. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together anyways.”

Yes. They would be spending a lot of time together, won’t they? Out of all the things that have crossed his mind, this had never been one of them. Maybe… maybe things wouldn’t all that bad after all. 

“Yeah, maybe. I have to warn you though, I’m a shit student.” 

“I’ve been told a challenge is good for me.” 

Stensland casts his gaze downward once more before taking another bite of the pancakes to distract himself from thinking of any implications that could lead to. There’s probably no implications meant there at all and his mind is just going to places that it shouldn’t. He tries to focus his mind on the careful chewing of his pancakes. 

“Mellie and Jimmy should be back soon. They mentioned something about spending time together before the party tonight. Probably some game or something.” 

“Game? Like Scattergories?” 

Clyde laughs. “No. Probably football. Jimmy likes to get a game going every year, and since I’m finally home.” 

“American football?” Stensland cringes. 

“Oh yeah. I forget y’all got different meanings over there, but yeah, American football.” 

Stensland groans. Honestly, he wouldn’t have minded playing some board game, or even one of those high-tech video games that they have now. Anything but _sports_. Stensland has never been good at sports. He was just awkward, long limbs and lack of coordination; it wasn’t a good combination. 

“Do you think they’d be upset if I sat out?” 

“I think they’d want you to join.” He moves closer, rests a hand on Stensland’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about; we’ll go easy on you.” 

He doesn’t like the teasing tone in Clyde’s voice or the glint of mischief in his eyes. He focuses on his pancakes again and shakes his head. “I guess I can play. It’s the least I could do for dragging you into this mess.” 

Something crosses Clyde’s face that he quickly tries to ask. Sadness? Disappointment? No. Those wouldn’t make sense. Why would be feeling those? 

Clyde goes to clean up his dishes on the counter. “I suppose it is.” 

  


* * *

  


Clyde wasn’t wrong about the family wanting to play (American) football when they got back. After what feels like _hours_ of just bringing in all the party supplies—plates, plasticware, string lights, etc.—they all finally make their way outside where Stensland begins to regret every decision he’s made that led him to this very moment. Everyone looks more equipped to play this game than him, even Mellie and Jimmy’s thirteen year old daughter, Sadie. Needless to say, it’s not going to end well. 

Clyde and Jimmy tried to explain it to him, twice, in as many details as they could. And he… he just thought he could get the grasp of it. It’s not like it should have been that difficult, right? It just seemed like a bunch of running around and throwing a ball around—both of which he is not skilled in—but he could handle that. He could manage running with a ball more than running with a ball and trying to kick it. That had been a mistake he made back in primary school when his father thought it would be a wise idea to man him up and get him to join a sport. 

He manages to make it through the first few games after being put on a team with Jimmy, some guy named Joe Bang and his brother Fish. Somewhere during the first game, they had all learned not to pass the ball to Stensland, which had been a relief to him. Though, part of it may have been him giving up after Sadie had snatched the ball from him for the third time. And it did also result in him running back and forth across the makeshift field for no true reason. By the time they stopped for a break, Stensland was exhausted and out of breath. He chugs down a bottle of water before collapsing onto the ground. His breaths come in heavy pants; his skin feels hot and damp. 

He is going to die. 

A large body sits next to him, blocking out the sun and coating him in shade. A bottle of water hits his side. “You doing okay there, sunshine?” 

He looks up at Clyde, squinting a bit at the bright sun. “I’m going to die. I don’t know how you guys do it,” he pants out as he tries to blindly reach for the bottle. “Everything hurts and burns and I can’t breathe. I’m not made for this.” 

A hand comes down and brushes some of the strands of hair out of his eyes. When Stensland opens his eyes, Clyde is looking down at him, amusement dancing around in those warm eyes of his and a gentle smile playing at his lips. The sun reflects against Clyde’s hair and highlights his face. And—fuck, Stensland is so completely screwed. He’s always been aware that Clyde is attractive, gorgeous even, but he’s never really _looked_. In the bright light, he’s able to see every little detail, every little freckle and mole and scar that graces his skin. Stensland fights the urge to reach up and run his fingers over every single one. Instead, he clenches the bottle in his hand. 

“You’re doing fine.” His hand still hasn’t left the side of Stensland’s face, and he still hasn’t looked away. Of course, when there’s someone attractive actually paying attention to him, it has to be when he’s all gross and sweaty, when his hair is a mess, skin slick with sweat, and his clothes are all grass-stained, when he looks like an absolute mess. But Clyde… Clyde isn’t looking at him like that at all. “Sadie’s sure been having fun watching you.” 

Stensland groans and covers his face with one of his hands. The last thing he needs right now is being ridiculed by a thirteen-year-old girl. “I’m glad my misery is causing someone joy.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing great.” Clyde tries giving him a reassuring smile, but Stensland doesn’t buy it.

“Yeah, great at making an ass out of myself. I’ve done nothing but run back and forth and you know it.”

Clyde just smiles. “Hey, at least you don’t gotta worry about being tackled.”

Stensland tries to laugh, but feels too tired to even attempt to muster the energy for it. He tries not to think about how everyone wants to keep playing. All he wants to do is stay on the grass here and not worry about a thing. Maybe they could play without him; it’s not like he was being much of a player anyway. He just wants to rest and sleep and make the soreness in his calves go away. 

He doesn’t get that though. Instead, he is forced back up to start the next game. He barely listens when Jimmy and Joe talk out some type of plan. There is still a light burning in his chest; he should have begged to sit this out, should have done something to get out of this. But he soon finds himself running along once again. And soon, he finds himself with the ball in his hands. Stensland hesitates for a second, only remembering to move when he hears Jimmy’s chants of “Run! Run! Run!” 

He tries to run off in what he thinks is the right direction with no one correcting him. The goal is within sight, and he’s almost there. He’s doing it! He is going to make his first goal! Excitement fills through him. This is—

He hits the ground with a loud yelp; a familiar laugh echoes in his ears. When he opens his eyes, Clyde is above him again. He has his good hand propping himself up. Stensland freezes. Tries to catch his breath. Tries to calm himself down. 

He definitely does not need to be thinking about Clyde on top of him. 

“Nice try,” he says with a bright smile, before leaning down to press a soft peck to his lips. 

The act is so sudden, so short, that it takes Stensland a second to process it. He can still feel the lingering touch of those lips as he stares up at Clyde. He wants to feel his lips again, wants to taste and bite them. He wants to reach up and touch Clyde’s hair and see if it feels as soft as it looks. All the thoughts rush to him because this could be a real thing; maybe Clyde _does_ like him.

Or, maybe, he’s just putting on a show for his family, like they’re _supposed_ to be doing.

“Come on, we don’t got all day!” Jimmy yells from a few feet away. 

Stensland blushes and looks away from Clyde as he climbs off of him and stands up. He holds his hand out for Stensland to take, and when he does, he helps pull him to his feet.

Neither one of them let go right away, just letting their hands stay clasped together. It’s nice, Stensland thinks, and tries not to be disappointed when Clyde pulls away. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.” He forces himself to smile and push away his emotions. Emotions aren’t something he can deal with now, not in front of everyone. He bends down, picks up the football where it had fallen out of his hands and hands it over to Clyde. “I believe this is yours now.” 

Clyde looks at him for a second before taking the ball out of his hands. Everyone else has gathered around again, waiting as patiently as they can for the game to continue. It’s only seconds before they’re all in their spots and running along the field again. Stensland ignores the memory of Clyde’s lips and runs back and forth along the field.

When the game is over, Stensland is officially out of breath and doesn't feel like he’ll be able to walk for another week. Clyde wraps an arm around him and helps him walk back into the house where he can sit on the couch for the next for hours and grab something to eat before they need to help set up for the party. 

Neither one of them mention the kiss. 

  


* * *

  


Sweat drips down his back as he leans against the railing of the porch, watching where Jimmy and Clyde are fighting to put together one of the tents. He _should_ be helping, but Jimmy had gotten fed up with him after twenty minutes of him trying to untangle the strings that they needed and sent him off to go help Mellie, who didn’t need help. Despite making an effort to not stare at Clyde, he finds himself continuously looking in his direction. By now, his shirt has come off, exposing every single muscle that Stensland wants to feel under his fingertips. He really shouldn’t be this affected, shouldn’t even be _thinking_ about any of this. Once they leave, things will go back to normal until they schedule their marriage. 

He has to remember that they’re just friends, but…

“Is he treating you well?”

Stensland jumps at the voice, turning to see Mellie standing next to him with two glasses of lemonade in her hand. She offers Stensland one and he takes it with a small, “Thanks.”

“So, is he?” 

“Yeah. Of course, he is.” 

“I’m glad.” She leans against the railing next to him. “When he came back home, he wasn’t quite the same. Not after… well, you know. He had a hard time adjusting. Spent months just locked away in his room, wouldn’t talk, barely ate. God, it must have been a year before I had even seen him for more than five seconds.” She takes a sip of her drink as she watches her brothers. “His first few relationships after weren’t the greatest. He is a bit intense.” 

“Yeah, he is.”

“I’m really glad he brought you this weekend. I really don’t think I’ve seen him this happy in years.”

He stares at the cup he’s cradling in his hands. Clyde’s happiness has nothing to do with him. It’s just some strange coincidence.

“I’m glad he brought me.” He smiles. “It’s been nice meeting you guys.” 

“Thinking about bringing him to meet your family?” 

“What? No. I…My parents died a while ago, and I’ve never been too close with my siblings.”

“That’s a shame. Clyde’s a big family guy, always has been. He woulda charmed every single one of them.” 

His gaze has found itself looking at Clyde again. Clyde who’s head thrown back in a laugh at something Jimmy has said. Clyde who has a family that loves and cares about him. Clyde who is too kind and too nice. Clyde who is looking right back at him now. 

“My Ma would have been swept off her feet.” He waves at Clyde, who immediately waves back, and smiles. “I wish she would have gotten to meet him.” 

“I think that if she’s looking down on you right now, she’d be happy for you two. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as in love as you guys in a while.” 

“You know, I think you’re right.” His eyes focus on Clyde as he and Jimmy walk back towards the house. If this would have been a real relationship, then maybe his mother would have been happy for him, maybe even proud for what’s become of his life.

A pair of strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close. There’s a soft pair of lips pressing against his shoulder. “Are we having fun over here?” Clyde’s soft voice whispers into his ear, arms tightening around him. 

Stensland laughs. “Mellie was just telling me some embarrassing stories from your childhood.”

“Nothing too bad, I hope.” He gives a pointed look over at Mellie. 

“Only the worst.” She laughs. 

“Hey, got any more of them ribs from last night, Mel?” Jimmy asks as he climbs up the steps, wiping the sweat off his skin with his shirt. 

“In the fridge, help yourself. Should be enough left for the both of you if you’ve worked up an appetite.” 

Jimmy disappears through the door behind them, but Clyde stays where he is, resting his chin on Stensland’s shoulder. It’s comfortable, nice, something that Stensland could easily get used to. The thought of that alone should be pushing him away from Clyde—he can’t let himself—but instead, he finds himself placing a hand on Clyde’s arm.

“I’m glad you came.” Clyde says, giving a small squeeze to Stensland’s waist. 

Stensland relaxes against Clyde’s chest. The scent of sweat and musk and spice engulf him, throwing a blanket of comfort over him. His eyes slip shut. “I’m glad I did, too.”

“Everyone likes you.”

 _Until they all think I broke your heart_ , he doesn’t say, instead, “Good. I like them too, but….” He bites his lip. “Jimmy is a bit scary. I don’t think he likes me too much.” 

Clyde chuckles, the vibrations rumbling against Stensland. “He does. He’s just protective, being the big brother and all, y’know.” 

Stensland wouldn’t know. His brother took off when he was twelve and hasn’t been heard from since. “I guess, but, do you think you could get him to glare just a little less?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He pulls away from Stensland, who tries not to frown at the loss of contact. “I’m gonna grab something to eat. Want anything?” 

“I’m good. Thank you.” 

Clyde disappears through the door, and Stensland slumps against the railing again. Two more days. Only two more days. He could do this. 

  


* * *

  


Music blares in the background with people all around him talking and laughing. Looking around the yard, he’s impressed with the job Clyde and Jimmy did. Three large tents have been set up, each with their own set of string lights. Stensland’s found himself lingering around the long table that’s set up with a plethora of drinks and snack foods.

Drink in hand, he searches around for Clyde, weaving through people and groups with absolutely no luck and trying not to overthink this. He’s a people person. He _likes_ people and talking, and with a little encouragement, he can actually be funny. But being surrounded by a whole gathering of people he doesn’t know, so very far away from home, and being unable to find the one person who said they’d be by his side the whole time, he feels unsettled, jittery. A few people keep asking him about Clyde, how they met, when they plan to get married; Stensland’s head swims from trying to keep a single story straight. 

He takes a sip of his drink and makes his way down to the small pond. There are fewer people down there, fewer chances of getting asked far too many questions he doesn’t want to answer, and maybe, if he’s alone and not moving around, Clyde would be able to find him better. That’s the thought, anyway, as he reaches the waterfront. There’s a cool, gentle breeze that helps him relax as it hits his skin. His moves gaze upward and take in the stars above, even thinking he’s able to see the Milky Way. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen a night sky like this; probably back home, in Ireland, as all the cities he’s lived in had always been so lit up the stars disappeared. 

“Beautiful, ain’t it?” The voice next to him surprises him, making him almost drop his drink. “Sorry,” Clyde says, holding his hand out and offering one of the two drinks he’s struggling to hold, “I got you another.” 

“Thanks.” Stensland takes his drink from him. Feeling awkward with the two cups, he finishes the first one before putting one of the solo cups into the other. 

“We grew up on this land. Bobby Jo used to live in the old house here. Jimmy would always drag me along when he wanted to hang out with her. I used to spend a lot of time reading on that bench over there while they caused trouble.” He stares out at the pond, before chuckling. “Our old house used to be just beyond that stretch of trees. Much smaller than this, barely any room, so I would sneak over here when I wanted to get away.” He points to a spot across the way. “There used to be a tree over there. Broke my leg three times falling out of it.” 

“Sounds like you have a lot of memories here.” 

“I suppose you can say I do.” 

He’s silent for a second, watching the water before turning back to Clyde. “Why did you move?” 

Clyde is silent as if wondering the same thing himself. Stensland bites at his lip and looks down at his drink; it’s not the same beer that it had been before, it’s something pink. When he takes a sip of it, he tastes the familiar strawberry with a hint of vodka. He smiles into the cup. 

“I guess I wanted a change of scenery. Mellie’s the one that talked me into moving out of the area.” He takes a drink. “It wasn’t a light decision, but I’m glad I did it.” 

Stensland looks back at Clyde; he looks at him with such a warmth that Stensland hesitates. Butterflies fill in his stomach as he watches Clyde move closer to him, shifting his drink from his hand to his robotic one with some difficulty. Once his hand is free, he puts it into his pocket. “There, uh, was actually something I wanted to…” he pauses, licking at his bottom lip before biting it. “Mellie got to talking with me earlier, and said something about you maybe wanting a ring, and uh, it’s not much, but it’s something, for now. “ Clyde moves a bit, biting at his lip again, looking down like he’s nervous, scared. “You—you don’t have to take it. I had just thought—”

Stensland hadn’t even noticed that Clyde had pulled something out of his pocket, and when he looks down at Clyde’s hand, two silver rings rest there: just simple bands. It’s just so simple, and so plain, but absolutely perfect. He knows he should probably say something. No, he definitely should say something, because he’s just been standing there, staring. 

“—it’s fine if you don’t want it. I just figured that it might help make it seem more real, y’know.”

“They’re perfect.” He beams. If Clyde is putting this much thought into it, then it has to mean something, right?

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Stensland picks up the rings from Clyde’s palm slipping the smaller of the two onto his finger. The fit isn’t perfect, but it’s enough. It feels light against his skin, still warm from being in Clyde’s pocket. He plays with the larger ring for a second before taking Clyde’s hand into his own and sliding the ring onto his finger. The smile is still on his lips as he looks down at their hands. “I guess this means we’re really doing this, doesn’t it?”

Clyde squeezes his hand. “This has always been something we’re doing, Stens.” 

Stensland tries to think of something to say, but all the words fail to make it past his lips. Clyde moves closer to him, still holding his hand. The moonlight reflects off of Clyde’s features, and has never appeared more beautiful to Stensland than it that moment. His lips part slightly as if he’s being left breathless. He must look like an idiot; just standing there staring at Clyde. 

But isn’t that Clyde staring back at him? With fondness in his eyes? With love and desire?

Stensland gulps, teeth digging into his lip. He’s gotten himself in too deep. The only thing that’s going to happen out of all of this is him going home with his heart broken. 

But Clyde steps a bit closer to him. He reaches a hand out; the black faux fingers gently brush against Stensland’s jaw, cool and smooth against his skin. Stensland can’t help but lean into the touch and yearn for the touch of his fingers. His eyes slip shut just as Clyde closes the gap between them and presses their lips together. Stensland gasps, light and breathy, against the contact, the shock causing him to drop his cup. 

Clyde’s lips are soft against his, gentle as he coaxes his lips apart. He tastes of whiskey and Coke, of the too sweet cake he had just eaten. Stensland craves more of it. Craves the feeling of those plush lips on his, of those strong, strong arms around his body. His heart thunders against his chest. He feels like he’s going to float away and never return. He feels warm. 

His fingers slide up Clyde’s chest, the muscle hard under his touch through the dark button-up he’s wearing. Clyde wraps his other arm around Stensland, holding him close, pulling him tight against him. Stensland snakes his hands around his neck as Clyde’s tongue slides against his lips. He gasps, parting his lips and devouring and savoring every inch of Clyde that he can get at. He tangles his fingers into Clyde’s hair; as soft and silky as he’s always imagined. His body feels good against his, like they were molded for each other, but he can’t think of that now. All he wants to think about is the smooth, desperate slide of Clyde’s lips and tongue, of the tight grip on his waist, of the heat rising through his veins. 

He tugs at Clyde’s hair when he feels the gentle nip at his lips. Clyde groans against him; the sound goes straight through Stensland, causing a shudder to go down his spine. Desire grows inside him, bubbling up, dancing along the edge, threatening to boil over at any point. They should stop; Stensland knows his limits, and if he doesn’t stop soon, he’ll be forever trapped within Clyde’s spell. 

And he’s already in so, so deep.

Clyde’s hand presses against the small of his back, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Stensland wants to feel those hands against his skin with nothing between them.

He wants to blame the alcohol on his feelings, but he is all too aware; sobriety threatened him the moment Clyde’s lips touched his. The content buzz he had been feeling disappeared long ago, faded away into the lazy high of messy kisses and curious touches, of feeling wanted, of lo—”

“Hey, lovebirds!” Jimmy’s voice calls from the direction of the house. Stensland jumps, bumping his head against Clyde’s as he forces himself away. His skin turns red and rushes out an apology to Clyde, who just laughs. “When y’all are done, Mellie’s looking to speak with you, Clyde.” 

“Tell her I’ll be right there!” he calls back to Jimmy, never taking his eyes off Stensland. “Gonna be okay if I step away for a sec?” 

Stensland nods, not trusting his voice. Everything suddenly seems like it’s too much. The loss of contact, the emotions flying through him. He never wants Clyde to leave, but he knows. He knows that if he follows, if he’s given a chance, everything will crumble at his feet. 

He watches as Clyde fades away through the yard and back into the house. Stensland’s arms wrap around his waist and counts his breaths and steady his erratic heart.

He’s more screwed more than he was at the start. 

He needs another drink. 

  


* * *

  


It feels like hours before Clyde makes his way back to Stensland. 

Stensland rests his back against one of the trees, staring out at the water again. Lightning bugs dance around the yard as the music blares from behind him. It’s been a good night, he thinks. Clyde’s family has welcomed him as one of their own. Every worry, every panic, that he had for this trip has completely slipped from his mind. But that could be the alcohol talking. Some woman—Marge, Maggie, Meg, something—kept pouring more whiskey into his cup as she told him some story about the lotto or something. Her accents is thicker than the rest of the group, making it nearly impossible for Stensland to understand her, but he laughed along when everyone else did and no one questioned him. 

They could totally pull this off. 

“There you are!” He beams when he sees Clyde. He probably drank too much. His head feels fuzzy and his body is warm. “I missed you.” 

Clyde chuckles as he sits down next to Stensland. There’s a different air about him, but Stensland can’t bring himself to really notice it enough to care. He curls up at Clyde’s side, resting his head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Clyde wraps his arm around his shoulder, holding him close. He smells good, like musk and spice. He snuggles close and tries to take in every ounce of comfort and warmth that he can get. 

He decides that he does quite like Clyde; he likes him quite a bit, actually. Likes the way his arms fit around him just so and the rhythmic heartbeat in his ear. Likes the gentle caress of his hand against his arm, rubbing gently. Stensland could stay like this for a while, or forever. He could slip his eyes shut and fall asleep. It’s a tempting thought.

“You gettin’ tired?” Clyde asks, lips brushing against the hair at the top of his head. Stensland nods, snuggling closer. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” 

Clyde helps him stand up, keeping one arm steadily at his waist while they walk back to the house. Music still blares in the background; people laugh in the distance. Stensland wants to stay. Wants to go into the group, but his eyes feel heavy. And Clyde is so warm and beautiful next to him, he doesn’t want to leave him. So, he follows. 

The walk to their bedroom seems both too long and too short. The soft comfort of the mattress is under him in no time. Stensland makes a content noise as he melts into the bed.

“I can, uh, leave so you change.” 

“No,” Stensland protests as he tries to sit back up. His teeth bite as his bottom lip as he looks at Clyde. “Come here.” 

Clyde hesitates for only a second before he takes those last few steps toward the bed and sits down next to Stensland. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion when Stensland brings his hand up to cup around Clyde’s neck, pulling him in close and pressing their lips together. It’s slow, gentle at first: just the gentle slide of their lips together and careful touches over their clothes. Testing boundaries in the privacy of the room. Clyde’s hand rests on Stensland’s side, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as Stensland moves to deepen the kiss. 

Their slower pace allows Stensland to notice all the little flaws. Clyde’s lips open just a little too wide in an attempt to match him, and he doesn’t really know what to do with his tongue or his hands. His nose gets in the way when he doesn’t move his head right away. Everything is messy and awkward, and Stensland _should_ care, but Clyde’s lips feel so good against his and his body feels so, so good when he’s pressed against him. They can work on the technique later—they’ll have a lot of time if all of this works out—but right now, it’s everything he needs. 

Clyde becomes courageous, his hand sliding around Stensland, fingers sneaking under the loose material of his shirt. Stensland gasps at the touch; those fingers cool against his heated skin. Their movements are careful, slow, cautious, as he slides them against his skin. Stensland hums into Clyde’s mouth, body pushing forward. Heat rises through his body, pooling in his lower abdomen. He craves more. So, so much more as he feels a curious scrape of teeth at his bottom lip. A low moan escapes past his lips and his hips thrust forward, growing more and more desperate for fiction: slow and deliberate; he can feel Clyde’s growing erection against his. 

Clyde freezes, throwing Stensland off-guard for a second. When he pulls back, Clyde is staring at him with pupil blown eyes. Stensland slides his hand around the back of Clyde’s neck, grazing his thumb along the edge of his jaw, feeling the day’s worth of stubble underneath his finger. 

He goes to open his mouth to say something, but Clyde’s lips are on his again, demanding, surer of their purpose. Clyde takes the lead and works on moving Stensland onto his back; the action awkward and unsteady as he rolls him over, but the second Stensland is on his back, Clyde straddles him. Stensland groans. His fingers tangle themselves in those dark locks, tugging gently and earning himself a low moan from Clyde that goes straight to his cock. 

“Want you. So bad,” he murmurs against those plush lips as his hips grind up for emphasis. He can feel Clyde shudder above him. 

Stensland drags his hand down, sliding down Clyde’s chest, down to his hips where he untucked his shirt from his jeans, fingers fumbling to undo the buttons. Clyde nips at his lips again, and Stensland is so far gone now. Clyde’s chest, so hard and toned underneath his fingers, feels so good; he wants to touch and taste every part of him. 

But Clyde—Clyde pulls away too soon.

Stensland tries to chase those lips, bring them back to his, but Clyde’s pulled too far away. He whines at the loss, but Clyde’s fingers on his cheek brings him some comfort. When he opens his eyes, he meets Clyde’s; those eyes are still looking at him, blown and dark. Those sweet, sweet lips are swollen and tempting. He wants… he wants so much.

“I’m just—I need,” he starts, voice low and husky. “I’m going to grab something quick.”

Stensland nods, afraid to use his voice, and fights against the whine that starts to form at the loss of contact and warmth. He watches as Clyde ducks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Stensland falls back onto the bed. His erection throbs in his jeans. Impatiently, he fumbles with the button and zipper of his jeans. When he finally gets them undone, he slips his hand into his boxers, lazily stroking himself. He moans. Imagines what it would feel like to have Clyde’s hand around him instead of his own; the thought of it alone almost drives him over the edge. He grips at the base of his cock, trying to stall the orgasm he knows is coming. 

He closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress; Clyde will be back soon. He will be back and they’ll have fun, and he’ll prove to Clyde that he can be the greatest lover he could ever have, that he’s worthy. 

The only problem is, that as time goes on, Clyde never comes back and the world goes silent around him.

  


* * *

  


A throbbing headache wakes him up. That and the sounds coming from outside the door.

Stensland groans and grips at his head. He can’t feel anything but the ache in his head. He just wants it to go away. Slowly, he rolls over, groaning as he feels the bit of nausea rolling over him. His tired eyes glance at the clock on the bedside table, and he’s surprised to see a few bottles of water and ibuprofen there. Clyde must have put it there during the night. 

Clyde; sweet, caring Clyde. 

He reaches out to grab the bottle of ibuprofen, fumbling only a few times before he gets a secure hold of it. Shaking a few into his hand, he swallows them down as he tries to sit up. His muscles ache, feel weak as he tries to brush the hair out of his eyes. The voices still argue back and forth with each other; and for a second, Stensland feels like he’s back home. Back in Ireland. He freezes, counting his breaths before telling himself that he’s in West Virginia. He’s in West Virginia with Clyde. With Clyde who’s pretending to be his fiancé so he can stay in the country. Clyde who sounds like he’s fighting with someone. 

Carefully, he pulls himself out of the bed. His legs feel wobbly underneath him, but he remains as steady as he can. He grabs a bottle of water before making his way to the door; he only gets about two steps before he realizes that his jeans are undone and trying to slide down his legs. He curses and fumbles with the button, throwing the bottle onto the bed next to him. 

“You aren’t listening to me! How many times do I gotta tell you, Jimmy?” Annoyance and anger linger in the voice outside. “This ain’t a scam!” 

“You really think I’m gonna believe that you go and move to some new town you never even heard of before and just happen to find a guy and you wanna marry after six months? _Six months, Clyde_. This ain’t like you.” 

“What would you know? You always thought you were hot shit, going around with every girl behind Bobbie Jo’s back. You think I can’t find someone just ‘cause—”

“Guys!” Mellie’s voices breaks through the two of them, “can we please not do this now? I have a headache the size of Texas, and if I have to keep listening to you idiots fight, I will kick you both out.” 

The silence that follows encourages Stensland to keep moving. His fingers fidget with the water bottle as he makes his way to the door, taking a deep breath once he gets there and opening it. All three of the Logan siblings look at him. Stensland flushes under their faze; his fingers twisting the bottle cap as he looks down. He should have waited until they all left or something. 

Gulping, he looks back up. “Morning.” 

Clyde is the first to acknowledge him; his stern expression turning soft with a gentle smile. He steps forward and wraps an arm around Stensland, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Morning, sunshine.” 

It’s so gentle and domestic that Stensland’s heart swells. Everything he’s been looking for in a relationship, in love, he’s been finding in a fake relationship. That would be his luck.

“Everything okay out here?” he asks, not taking his eyes away from Clyde. 

Clyde hesitates for a second, averting his gaze over towards Jimmy. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

Jimmy looks back and forth between the two of them before settling on Clyde. “This conversation is _not_ over.”

He takes off without another word. Clyde’s grip loosens on Stensland as he relaxes and Mellie sighs. Stensland looks over at her as she watches Jimmy walk off with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t mind him any, he’s in a mood today.” 

“Did I miss something?”

“No, just Jimmy being Jimmy,” Clyde shrugs, “always thinkin’ he knows what’s best for me and all.”

Stensland raises his eyebrows, curious, confused. He goes to open his mouth to say something, but Mellie cuts him off. “You should know not to let him get to you.” A reassuring smile. “Now, let's get some breakfast in us before we start the cleanup.” 

“Clean up?” 

“You think I was gonna let you party all night and crash at my place without anything in return?” She lets out a small laugh before starting to head down the hall. “C’mon now.”

He stares after her. The throbbing in his head may have started to disappear, but he was in no condition to be doing anything. He knows better than to argue, though; after all, he is just a guest and Mellie really has been more than hospitable. Helping out is the least he could do. Clyde nudges him along, guiding him towards the kitchen. The unease in his system takes over, his movements still wobbly and his head still swimming. For a second, he thinks he's going to be sick before Clyde guides him into a chair at the table. He opens his water bottle and takes a few careful sips; after all this time, he had thought he had learned his lesson about over drinking. 

Clyde takes the seat next to him. It’s only then that he looks up and notices all the pastries on the table in front of them. If Stensland didn’t feel like his stomach would protest at anything he puts into his mouth, he would have devoured every single bite. He makes an involuntary, small noise as his stomach protests the thought of it. 

“You okay?” The sincerity in Clyde’s voice, the worried look in his eyes, nearly destroys Stensland. He can’t remember the last time that someone had so visibly cared about him.

It almost makes him want to tell everyone that this is just a sham. It would be so much easier. 

His heart tightens in his chest, but he puts on his best attempt of a smile. “Yeah, just drank too much last night, I think.” 

“I noticed.” 

He doesn’t miss the way Clyde’s ears turn red. 

Stensland picks at one of the scones, chewing each piece slowly. He’s thankful that his body doesn’t try to protest too much, settling just well enough. The Logans chat around him, but he can’t focus on the words. The ibuprofen is still working slowly; whatever ache that plague him has started to diminish, but his thoughts are still a foggy, uncoordinated mess. A steady pressure finds itself on his neck, gentle fingers soothing the muscles and skin. It feels good, nice, like a calm comforting wave washing over the wreck that is his body. He relaxes into the touch. 

Just faintly, he can make out the gentle calmness of Clyde’s voice. His eyes slip shut, focusing on the measured tempo of every word Clyde says. Stensland could live like this, with Clyde, for however long they were destined to be; Clyde, gentle, gentle Clyde has always appeared like he cared, like he could have possibly felt something for him. Maybe it was just all in his head; it had to be all in his head and he should have stopped thinking about this days ago. There’s no way Clyde could have ever been into the awkward, waifish mess that is Stensland. 

“What’s this, Jimmy?” The raised tone in Clyde’s voice causes him to snap his eyes open. Blinking fast to steady the dizzy feeling taking over him, he turns his attention to where Clyde is looking. 

Ms. Grayson stands with Jimmy in the doorway of the kitchen; her appearance is far more terrifying than it had been back in her office. Between her and Jimmy, it’s a miracle that Stensland hasn’t caved and told them the truth; that their suspicions are correct, that all of this is just a sham. Stensland gulps and bites down on his lip, straightening his posture in the chair. 

“Ms. Grayson?” His voice is weak, confused, pathetic. “What are you doing here?”

Jimmy stops her before she can start talking. “Mellie, can you let us talk in private?”

“Are you forgetting this is my house?” 

“Mellie.” 

“Fine.” She throws her hands up in defeat, storming out of the room. “I’ll just be in the yard, doing the work we’re _all_ supposed to be doing.”

As she leaves the room, Jimmy and Ms. Grayson sit down at the table opposite them. Silence fills in the gap between them until the sharp sound of the door slamming echoes through the house. Jimmy sighs as he looks at his brother. 

“You told me you weren’t lying about this.” 

“We ain’t.” Clyde doesn’t even flinch. “You just don’t believe us.” 

“Clyde, you’re my brother. I know you. You don’t just go up and date the first guy that comes your way. You’ve only known him for six months.” 

“Things are different, Jimmy. You haven’t bothered calling for months since your damned phone is still shut off. What would you—”

“Fellas, fellas,” Ms. Grayson interferes, holding a hand out in front of each of them. “There’s no need to fight. We can settle this nice and easy; just let me talk for a second.” When neither of them protests, she puts her hands back down in front of her. “I had told the both of you that I would be going through and calling all your friends and family for verifications. Stensland, as you can imagine, your coworkers were a bit surprised to be hearing from me. None of them were aware that you were even dating, nevermind engaged.” She moves her attention to Clyde. “When I gave Jimmy here a call, he had raised his concerns to me. After a long talk yesterday, I made my way here as fast as I could.”

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a folder and sets it on the table. “Lucky for you, Clyde, your brother likes you an awful lot and offered a bargain for you. If you two make a statement right now, stating that this is a sham, you—” she points to Clyde “—are off the hook, and Stensland goes back to Ireland.”

“Just take the deal, Clyde. You know it’s the best shot you got; we both know you can’t go to prison again.” 

Clyde’s fist slams into the table. Stensland jumps as the sound echoes through the room. He gulps, reaching out to put a hand on Clyde’s tense arm. His surface is calm, unchanged; the calm before the storm, but the fire rages in his eyes: hot and bright. 

“You want a damned statement?” His voice is flat, void of the anger dancing in his gaze. Stensland doesn’t know if he should be terrified right now. Instead, he just gives his arm a gentle squeeze. “I met Stensland six months ago. We started dating two weeks after that. We fell in love. I asked him to marry me three weeks ago, he said yes.” A deep breath. “I’ll marry him tomorrow just to prove it to you.” 

In his anger, his chair slams onto the floor when he goes outside. Stensland’s hands shake when he gets the chair straight again. Jimmy and Ms. Grayson are still looking at him, waiting for his response. He lets out a nervous laugh, unsure of what exactly just happened, and runs his hand through his hair. 

“I guess we have a wedding to plan.” 

  


* * *

  


“This is so exciting, isn’t it?” Mellie’s too excited. Much too excited. She’s been talking nonstop since Clyde and Jimmy broke the news to her after Ms. Grayson left. She demanded right away that they go start picking things up and getting everything ready. The only reason he offered to go with her was because he didn’t want to be left alone with Jimmy; he had a feeling that Jimmy did not like him. 

And that was how they ended up going around the mall for hours picking up various decorations, from fake flowers to table clothes and some sheer fabric that Stensland had no idea what it would be used for. His arms ache from the number of bags he’s carrying and all he would like to do is just sit down for ten minutes at the most, but Mellie just keeps going and going. 

Stensland doesn’t even hear half of what she’s saying, just nods his head whenever she asks his opinion on something. His mind is still stuck on trying to process the fact that he’s getting married tomorrow. He had been hoping for a little more time; a few weeks maybe, or a few months, anything would have been fine. Anything besides tomorrow would have been fine. 

He nearly slams into Mellie when she stops dead in the middle of Target, still too caught up in his own thoughts to notice her. 

“You don’t have a suit, do you?” Horror finds its way across her face when he doesn’t respond right away. “Dammit, we shoulda went there first. Would have saved a hell of a lot of time.” 

She leaves their cart in the middle of the aisle as she grabs Stensland’s wrist and all but drags him out of the store. She mutters under her breathe about something. By the time they reach whatever their destination is, Stensland is out of breath. 

Mellie proceeds to drag him into the storefront, almost making him trip over his own footing. She mutters out a small apology as she leads him over to the men’s section of the store. All Stensland can be thankful for at this point is that she didn’t drag him into a proper tailor—he has too many terrible experiences to even consider it. He focuses on not tripping or running into anything while Mellie continues to drag him through the store until they’re surrounded by suits and ties. 

“We should have brought the bags to the car.” She shrugs and gives him a long look over, eyes examining every inch of him with such careful observation that he has to try to not squirm. “You can just go ahead and put them on the ground. We’re gonna need your hands free.”

She grabs one of the beige jackets and one of a darker shade of gray, holding each one up and going back and forth between Stensland and the jacket. “Look at me,” she orders before shoving the darker jacket at him. “Go to the dressing room and try this on; I’ll find some pants.” 

The walk to the dressing room is longer than he would like it to be; though, it doesn’t help any that he did get almost lost along the way. Once he finally has the key to the dressing room, he slips inside and closes the door behind him. 

Finally alone with his thoughts, he sighs. He’s getting _married_ ; he’s getting married _tomorrow_. It’s too fast. Too sudden. There hasn't nearly been enough time to actually plan anything at all. Stensland barely got a say in the matter; when Mellie found out, she started rattling off ideas and Clyde agreed with every single one of them, leaving Stensland standing there stunned.

He catches his reflection in the mirror. Even a year later, he’s still the messy haired, waifish boy that ran away from his problems. His nose is a bit too wide, too rounded, lips too dark, and cheekbones too prominent. There’s a million and one problems with him. The nice jacket did nothing, just made him look like he is trying to be something he’s not. 

Clyde could never actually like him, nevermind _love_ him.

“You’re not the smartest,” he mutters to himself, adjusting the jacket, “you’re not the coolest. You’re not the best looking, but, goddammit, you are _something_.” 

The old mantra almost works; almost makes him feel confident enough to stand a little straighter, hold his head a little higher. A little positivity is all he needed. 

“You’ve got something that—”

“Stens! You in there?” 

He jumps, nearly falling back into the wall behind him, clenching his hand to his chest. “Yeah!” 

“Great, here!” Mellie throws a whole pile of clothes to the top of the door. “Try all these on for me.” 

There has to be at least eight separate jackets, five pairs of trousers, and three collared shirts varying in shades of color. All of it is too much; Stensland is overwhelmed before he has even gotten started. With another deep breath, he shakes off the previous jacket and starts the process of trying on all the different suits. Most of the jackets are some sort of gray, ranging from light to dark. Mellie immediately denies the lightest one from being an option the second he walks out of the dressing room; he didn’t think it had looked _that_ bad, in fact, he actually liked it. The second he tried to protest her decision, she demanded that he give her the jacket and that he never touch it again. 

It’s not until the last suit that he gets any real reaction out of Mellie. The dark jade coloring was the oddball of the selection; something that he would never have chosen for himself, something that shouldn’t be seen at a wedding, according to his mother. 

“Would you look at you!” She circles around him. “I think this might be the one?”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she says as she faces him again, “the color looks good on you.” She straightens out the flaps on the jacket. “You know, you clean up pretty well, Stensland.” 

“Are you saying I don’t normally look good?” He grins at her.

She just rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t get cocky now; I was just starting to like you.”

“What do you mean, just starting? I haven’t made you want to try and steal me away from your brother yet?”

She gives him a look before shaking her head and starting to gather the other jackets and pants.“We should get going. Go change and I’ll meet you up front.” 

He does what she says, careful to put the clothes in a folded pile before leaving the dressing room and finding Mellie looking at ties. When she finally spots him next to her, she holds out two different ones before settling on a darker brown. 

“What about this one?” he asks as he holds up a blue tie, decorated with multi-colored squiggly lines on it. “It would be perfect.” 

Mellie looks at him with absolute disgust. “You put that thing down right now.” 

“But—”

“Put it down.”

He huffs as he places the tie back down. “What about—”

“Touch one more tie, and I will use one to tie your hands together.” 

Stensland touches nothing else as they make their way to the register and pay for the outfit, just follows behind her, carrying the plethora of bags she threw into his hands again. The transaction is quick and they’re soon back to the car. He sighs in relief when he puts all the bags in the trunk and sits down in the passenger seat. 

“So, we’re done now, right?” 

A twinkle dances in her eyes as she looks at him. “I got one more thing planned for you.”

  


* * *

  


After another hour or so, they pull into a worn down building. The only thing that stops Stensland’s nerves from going haywire is Mellie’s nonchalant attitude as they make their way closer. Maybe there’s something she needs here, like a friend or something, but as they turn around the corner, he sees the bright neon light that screams “Swingin’ Richards” and he stops in his tracks. 

“Mellie, please tell me we’re not going in there.” 

The grin that crosses her face does nothing to help him. She doesn’t stop walking when she gets to the bouncer there, just smiles at him with a wave and leads Stensland through the doors. Loud hip hop music plays in the dark room. All focus is on the stage, where a well built, pretty-faced man is dancing before a crowd of excited females. He has never felt so out of place. 

Mellie walks them over towards to one of the curtained off areas that are being guarded by one of the most terrifying bouncers Stensland has ever seen. He ignores his judgmental gaze by looking around at everyone else in the club. He shouldn’t have come here; he should have just stayed in the car and waited for her, and not be under the impression that she has set him up with his own stripper like every other bachelor party he has been to, because this is _not_ a bachelor party. Any doubts that he has fades away as soon as he’s being led over to a curtained area.

He was a fool to think otherwise. 

Well, at least he can have _some_ fun.

After Mellie talks with the bouncer, he calls over the walkie-talkie to someone and they make their way over to one of the tables. The dancer is still on the stage, working on the pole like it’s what he’s born to; the lazy sensual gaze, a playful bite of his lip, the teasing roll of his hips. Stensland could get himself lost in the act, watching the sweat and oil glisten off his tanned skin. 

His routine ends soon after they arrive, much to Stensland’s displeasure, but it’s not long before he sees the sculpted abs and chiseled jaw walking around the floor. The stripper scans the room until he looks in their direction. A wide, toothy grin forms on his lips as he makes his way over. 

“Mellie! It’s been too long. I heard Clyde is back in town, how’s he doing?” 

And, just for a second, Stensland is baffled that they would know each other. 

“He’s alive and well. This here is Stensland, the one I told you about on the phone.” 

“Oh, so you’re the groom-to-be?” He smiles at him. His smile is far more attractive up close. 

“You _are_ a cute one. Clyde sure does know how to pick his boys.” The glint in his eyes tells Stensland that he’s missing something.

“I’m going to leave you two alone now. I have a few words I need to tell Derek.” She leaves with a wink. 

The stripper just shrugs when Stensland looks at him. “She paid for a lap dance for you. If you want it, that is.”

Stensland stares at him for a second, eyes trailing down. Maybe he should say no; he is supposed to be happily engaged right now, is he not? But isn’t this what happily engaged people do? Go out to the strip club on the eve of their wedding? Who is he to say no? 

He says yes without a second thought, and the stripper grins at him.

“You can touch,” he whispers into Stensland’s ear after he’s leaned over, voice hot and breathy over his ear as his hips gyrate between Stensland’s legs. He doesn’t need telling twice. Immediately, his hands reach up from their spot on the chair’s armrest and trail down the oil slick chest, feeling the toned muscles underneath his fingertips. Fleeting memories from last night—was it last night?—play around in his head: Clyde’s lips on him, desperate and needy, the strong grip on his hip, the soft muscles of his chest, how Clyde disappeared and never came back. 

He shouldn’t feel guilty for this; it’s nothing. Shouldn’t feel bad when his hand trails up and plays with the short, loose curls at the base of the strippers neck. Clyde isn’t his boyfriend, or his fiance; it’s all just a lie to keep him in the country. He shouldn’t feel guilty about the thoughts running through his head; of wanting to kiss those lips, of wondering if they’re able to sneak away. After all, it’s not like he’ll get anything out of Clyde. That much has been made obvious. 

But he still can’t help the unsettling guilt that runs through him. 

Stensland uses his hand and presses his hand against the stripper's chest again, trying to push him away. His eyes slip shut as he tries to clear his mind. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” he says as he pulls away from him and takes a seat in the chair next to him. “I’m still paid; no one said that I had to finish anything.” His smile is bright and friendly. “I’m Romeo, by the way. Long time friend of the Logans.” 

Stensland can’t stop himself from snorting. “Really? Romeo?” 

“Momma knew I was gonna be a lover. So, you getting married to Clyde?” 

Stensland nods. 

“That’s a shame. You really are a pretty little thing.”

He feels the blush take over before he can stop it, just thankful that the dim lighting hides it. “Thanks.” 

“He’s a good guy, Clyde. A little simple-minded at times, but a good guy.” 

“You said you were a long time friend?” 

“Yeah. Me and Clyde were in the same grade. Shared a lot of the same friends when we were kids, so we started hanging out. We actually dated for a bit, but wanted different things.” 

Stensland stares, mortified. “You dated?” 

“Yep. It wasn’t for long. He was still in the closet and trying to figure himself out. This ain’t the best place for coming out as a gay man. Especially not with his dad. He might as well have asked for murder by coming out, but… I was young, and selfish, already out for a few years at that point, and I didn’t want to keep hiding our relationship. He got angry and broke it off. Didn’t speak to me for two years until he left for the army.” He looks towards Stensland. “I’m glad after all these years that he’s found love.”

He’s silent for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. I’m still just trying to process that Mellie just set me up for a lapdance from my fiance’s ex.” 

Romeo laughs. “It’s not the strangest thing I’ve been asked to do.” 

“I don’t even want to know.” 

“Looks like you two are getting along fine,” Mellie muses as she slides into a chair next to Stensland. “So, Romeo, think he’s good for Clyde?” 

“I was just about to tell him that I think he’s too good. I was just beginning the dance when he stopped me, can you believe that?” 

Mellie laughs. “I’m surprised, Stens.” 

“I didn’t think that Clyde would be too happy with me.” 

“Oh, please, what Clyde doesn't know won’t hurt him.” She rolls her eyes. “Romeo and I are good at keeping secrets.” 

“Considering you didn’t tell me that Romeo dated Clyde, I would say that you are.” 

She grins at him, bright and innocent. “I didn’t think it was important. Besides, it was like twenty years ago.” 

“I’m glad I got to meet you Stensland. Clyde still has a spot in my heart, y’know, but I’m glad he’s found you.” Stensland ignores the dip in his stomach and instead focuses on the man walking up to them, tapping on Romeo’s shoulder to get his attention. “Shit, I gotta go back to work. Enjoy the rest of the night, you two.” 

“I still can’t believe that you did that,” he says with a shake of his head. “That was horrible.”

“It’s no big deal, Stens. He’s a good friend and one of the best judges of characters. I needed to make sure that you were as good for Clyde as we thought.” She smiles. “Just know, though, that if you hurt Clyde, that Jimmy won’t be the only one going after you.”

  


* * *

  


Laughter fills the living room, allowing Stensland to feel settled and relaxed, resting his back against the couch, head resting against Clyde’s leg from his spot on the floor. Probably the most relaxed he’s ever felt since coming here, but that could also be the pot talking. He had still been a bit wary after coming back from the strip club, still uneasy with what had happened, but when Mellie had mentioned it to Clyde, he had just laughed like it was nothing. Any thoughts that still lingered about it vanished after dinner. And now, here he was getting high with Mellie as they all share stories of their childhood.

He suppresses a giggle as he passes the joint back to Mellie. 

“Those two were always good at causing trouble,” she tells Stensland, “or should I say that Jimmy was good at causing trouble and dragging Clyde into it.” 

“Hey, I didn’t drag him! He came along willingly,” Jimmy interjects before looking over at Stensland. “Don’t let him fool you into thinkin’ he’s innocent. He’s a sneaky little fucker.”

“Oh, God. I remember back when you had just moved in with Bobbie Jo. Momma and Daddy went out of town for the weekend, and I swear he invited the whole senior class over and raided Daddy’s liquor cabinet.” She laughs. “I thought Daddy was gonna kill him when he got home. I still don’t know how you got out of that one.” 

“I told ‘em that Jimmy did it,” confesses Clyde with a shrug.

“You asshole, that’s why they called me and yelled at me for hours! I had no clue what they were talkin’ about.” 

Clyde laughs behind him, so full and loud that Stensland feels it shake through his bones. Jimmy glares at him and throws one of the pillows at him. Clyde just laughs harder.

“I wish we still had that old photo album Momma kept. There was this hilarious picture of Clyde you _have_ to see!”

Confusion crosses over Clyde’s face before recognition sets in, followed by pure horror. “Oh, Mellie, no he doesn’t.”

“She brought it out at every family get together or whenever he had a friend over—”

“Mellie, please don’t.” His eyes plead with her, begging to stop. 

“He has to be like, two or three in the picture, but he wanted to impress everyone. I think it was, for some dinner Daddy was having with his boss. But anyways, the story goes, Momma had told Daddy to give him a bath while she finished settin’ everything up, so he goes and gives him a bath, dries him off, drains the tub so he can go grab his clothes from the bedroom with no worry about Clyde drowning himself. But, Clyde was quicker than that.”

“Mellie.” The desperation in Clyde’s voice grows, but Mellie ignores him. 

“Thought he’d show our parents that he was a big boy and he could dress himself. So, when Daddy goes back into the bathroom, Clyde is missing. Catches him just in time to see him walking into the living room with a huge smile on his face. He’s got his hair all slicked back and this plastic bag that he managed to put holes in like some sort of unitard. God, I wish we could find that picture.” 

Stensland tries hard to hold his laughter in as he turns his head to look back at Clyde, whose face has grown red from embarrassment. He reaches a handout and rubs his knee reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Clyde. My Ma used to have these awful pictures of me hanging up all the house. Half of them, I was just in my birthday suit.”

That manages to get a light chuckle out of Clyde. 

“Oh, Jimmy, what was that other story she used to always tell?” 

Jimmy ponders the idea, a wide grin spreading across his face before responding, “You mean, the sausage story?” 

“Guys, please—” Clyde groans.

“Yes! That one!”

“Alright, so, one morning, we’re all sitting around the table for breakfast. Clyde musta been around ten at the time. Daddy had made sausage that mornin’ and everything’s fine, normal. Mom looks over at Clyde and he’s just sitting there, with the sausage in this mouth. When she asks him what he’s doing he just yells ‘I’M JUST SUCKING ON MY SAUSAGE!’ and they just lost it.” 

Stensland nearly spits out the water he had just sipped as he tries to stifle a laugh. “Did you guys know he was gay at that point?”

“Shoulda, but we didn’t until he was 23 and Daddy walked in on him making out with some guy in his bedroom,” Jimmy answers. 

Mellie laughs. “Y’all were just too blind to see it.”

“It wasn’t like he was showing interest in anyone.” Jimmy rolls his eyes. “We had all just thought he was a late bloomer.” 

“I’ve known since I was twelve! It wasn’t that hard to tell.” 

“Please, Mel. You only knew because you walked in on me and Romeo when I was sixteen.” 

“You knew? And you didn’t tell me?” Jimmy glares at her. “I thought siblings were supposed to trust each other.” 

“You were too busy with Bobbie Jo to even pay attention to us. Off tryna be a big football star.” 

Stensland smiles at the banter as gentle fingers play through his hair. This is what it must have been like back before his brother ran away and his sister turned against him. Back when things were easy. Back before he ran away from it all. He takes a deep breath and tries to push the thoughts out of his head. He can’t keep thinking like this. All of that is in the past. The future is in front of him. Or, well, the future he wishes he would have. Where he’s involved with a family, accepted as one of their own, with a loving spouse at his side. 

His shoes have suddenly become very interesting. 

Clyde’s knee nudges at him, causing him to look up at him while the two other Logan siblings continue their banter. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “just tired.” 

“Wanna head to bed?” 

He nods again. Everything… everything is wrong. He shouldn’t be here. Everyone here is under the assumption that Stensland is here to stay. That he’ll marry Clyde tomorrow and it will all be happily ever after. Hearts will break in a few months times and he’ll never have the sense of family again; the whole, content feeling that’s captured him and wrapped around him like a warm blanket. 

He feels like he’s suffocating. 

Clyde tells his siblings they’re leaving, but Stensland doesn’t pay attention. His head spins, thoughts threatening to betray him. 

He leaves the room without any notice of whether or not Clyde is behind him. His arms wrap around his waist as he falls onto his bed. His eyes snap shut. He should have found an alternate plan. Should have just sucked it up and went home. He could always make amends with his sister. 

The bed next to him dips, a gentle hand falls onto his shoulder. Stensland’s afraid to open his eyes, doesn’t want to see what’s going through Clyde’s expression. Doesn’t want to see any of the disappointment or concern or whatever else he might find there. He doesn’t deserve it. He hasn’t deserved any of this. 

“I forgot,” he starts, clutching his sides tighter, “I forgot what having a family was like.” The hand on his shoulder squeezes. “It’s been so long. I didn’t—I didn’t realize how much I’d miss it.” He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. “It’s been seventeen years since I last saw anyone. My brother ran away when I was twelve. My Dad died the following year. Ma died when I was seventeen. I…” he pauses. He hasn’t talked about this to anyone. He moved this way as a blank slate. “I was driving her home one night and it was raining. I-I—the car slipped and—“ he gulps, trying to compose himself. “Everything just happened so fast. A truck slammed into us. Right into the passenger side. I made it out without a scratch but she…. We held the funeral a week later. I was supposed to say something, but I couldn’t.” He closes his eyes again. Runs his hands through his hair. 

“Teegan came up to me as everyone was leaving. Accused me of being the reason that Ma was dead. That I was an idiot and that I was good for nothing. Told me in front of everyone that she wished I had died instead.” 

“Stens…”

“She blames me for everything. And I just—I couldn’t deal with it. So I just ran. I packed a bag and left the next day. I haven’t been back since.” 

The bed next to him squeaks under the light pressure of Clyde laying down next to him. The hand that had been on his shoulder now rests at the side of his face, moving him to look at Clyde. 

“She’s wrong.” 

Stensland has to hold back his laugh. “You don’t even really know me.” 

“Maybe not, but I do know you well enough to know that you’re not good for nothin’.” And Clyde is looking directly at him; those warm brown eyes trying to tell him words that he can’t bring himself to say. Things that make Stensland’s heart clench and stomach flip. Things that have no place being between them. “You. Stens, I. You were one of the best parts of my move. I… I’m sorry to hear about your mom, but I’m glad you made it out. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you.”

Stensland feels his jaw slack, his lips part as he stares at Clyde. His heart feels heavy. “Clyde.”

He shakes his head, letting his fingers run down the side of Stensland’s face. “It’s… We should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow and all.” 

“I, yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

Clyde gives him a smile before pressing a kiss to Stensland’s forehead. “Good night, Stensland.”

He moves to get off of the bed, but Stensland reaches a hand out, grabbing onto his shirt. “Can you… can you just lay with me? For a while?” 

Clyde hesitates, and it feels like too long before Clyde’s laying down beside him. Stensland curls up against him, nuzzling his head against the crook of Clyde’s neck. Warmth radiates off him, filling Stensland, lulls him into a sleep where he can forget everything that’s plaguing his mind. 

It’s nice to just forget for a little while.

  


* * *

  


Morning comes with the bright sun beaming through the cracks of the blinds. Stensland groans in protest. It’s too early, and he’s far too warm and comfortable. He snuggles into the body next to his, the arm around him pulling him closer. A soft puff of breath hit against his necks as Clyde settles against him. 

Clyde….

Stensland replays last night in his head; his confession, Clyde’s kind words, the flutter in his chest. He’s never deserved any of this. 

A knock pulls him from his thoughts. He groans in protest, burrowing his head into the pillow. Clyde squeezes him around the middle and presses a soft kiss against his neck. Gentle, caring, loving. He definitely doesn’t deserve this. He’s… he’s never….

Another knock comes from the door, louder this time, and it’s Clyde’s turn to groan. “Tell ‘em to go away.” 

Stensland chuckles. “See, I would, but that would involve you letting me go.” 

Clyde makes a noise of protest. “‘M comfy.” 

A third knock comes to the door, followed by Mellie’s voice, “You two better be decent in there,” before she barges into the room. It’s only then that Clyde pulls away from him. The smell of bacon catches his attention, motivating him to sit up. His hand reaches up and rubs at the crust and sleep that lingers around his eyes. When he opens them back up, he catches Mellie placing down a breakfast tray on the bed: two plates with some eggs and bacon, and two coffee cups. 

“I thought the special couple would like to take their breakfast in bed.” Mellie smiles. “I was hoping that you’d be up early. Got a lot to do today, and not much time left, sleepyheads.” 

Clyde mumbles out something inaudible over his mug. 

“I’m gonna give you ten minutes, and then I want to see you in my bedroom, Clyde.”

He makes a noise of agreement through a mouthful of bacon and she leaves with a laugh. 

They’ll be getting married in about three hours. That has Stensland’s nerves working on hyperdrive, making it so he’s only able to get down a few bites of the breakfast before his stomach threatens to protest. His thumb plays with the metal band around his ring finger. He never thought he’d be getting married, especially like this. Out of all the things Stensland has gotten himself into, this is probably one of the most bizarre. 

Clyde is just about to leave the room when Stensland calls out to him. Words fail him, unsure of what he wants to say; everything colliding together in a muffled mess. He sighs as he tries to compose himself. “I just… I wanted to thank you, again, for doing this for me.” 

“It’s no problem, Stens. I’m glad I could help you out.” 

And then Stensland is alone in the room. He gulps, using the fork to pick at the bits of egg on his plate, all appetite completely vanished from his system. Everything’s going to be fine, he reminds himself. They’ll get married today, apply for his green card, play the married couple for a few months, and then get a divorce by the holidays. So what if the Logans think that he broke his brother’s heart? It’s not like he’ll ever see them again anyway. He’s worrying way too much for _nothing_.

That still doesn’t stop the dread that forms in the pit of his stomach. 

  


* * *

  


Rows of chairs line the yard in front of the pond; a majority of them are filled up, Stensland notices when he looks out of the window. His heart pounds, jumping into his throat. He bites his lip as he shuts the curtain. This—what was he thinking? His confidence that had grown over the last few days fell, pooling in a nervous pit in his gut. He takes a deep breath and straightens his posture. 

The reflection in the mirror shows him a man he barely recognizes. Mellie had worked wonders on him; his hair is slicked back in a manner far nicer than anything Stensland could have ever done, his sideburns trimmed neat and evenly on either side of his face, a few of the blemishes that had started to appear on his cheeks had disappeared underneath whatever magic Mellie had performed. He actually looks _good_. 

And Mellie was right; the emerald green coloring on the suit does look good on him, making his hair and eyes appear brighter. His fingers adjust the muted brown tie Mellie had picked out for him, scrunching his nose a bit, still wishing that she had let him get the tie he had wanted, but he supposes that this is the next best option. 

There’s a short knock on the door before Mellie comes bursting through. Her smile brightens as she looks at him. “I knew it! Just wait until Clyde gets a good look at you. He’s not gonna be able to stop staring.” 

Stensland flushes, fingers nervously playing with his tie again. 

“So, I was going through my things last night and there’s something I think you should have.” She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a vintage pocket watch. “This was our granddaddy’s. He gave it to grandmomma when they got married and she gave it to Daddy, who gave it to Mommy. It was _supposed_ to go to Clyde before I nicked it one day going through her jewelry drawer one day.” She gives a slight laugh. “I reckon you’d be the rightful owner of it now.” 

Stensland stare at it. The gold color is faded to a rustic color, some dirt still lingering in the small details around the edges, the weigh heavy in his hand. It’s gorgeous, and something he doesn’t deserve. Something he definitely doesn’t deserve. 

“Oh, I—No, I couldn’t accept this, Mel. You should give it to Clyde.” He tries to push it back towards her. 

“Don’t be silly. If I give it to him, he’ll just give it to you. Just think of it as a wedding present.” She takes the pocket watch and slips it into his jacket pocket, taking the chain and lacing it through one of the button holes. “There,” she says as she pats her hand on his pocket and steps back. “Perfect. Now, I don’t want to hear another peep about it.” 

Stensland can’t deny that the chain does add something to the look, like a missing piece, but when he looks at it, guilt rises through him. He shouldn’t have it. It’s not his. Will never be _his_. The fact he’s wearing it now is _wrong_. 

“Mel—” 

“I don’t want to hear it Stens.” 

And then she’s gone out the door, leaving Stensland alone again. 

He stares at his reflection and all he sees is a liar, a fake. He has no place being here in this house. No place taking Clyde as his husband for a scam. They should have taken that deal with Ms. Grayson, but it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? 

But, then again, Clyde had agreed to this. 

Clyde hadn’t protested to any of it. He seems to be all for it, doesn’t he? He was the one that even suggested that they get married today. Clyde has been calm and cool through out of this whole thing. 

Stensland takes a long drink of his water. 

Another knock comes from the door before Jimmy enters into the room. Stensland freezes in his spot. 

“Hey, Stens, I just wanted to apologize for yesterday.” And he looks sincere enough that Stensland has to believe him, doesn’t he? “It’s just… Clyde. He’s my kid brother, and I gotta look out for him. He doesn’t always make the brightest decisions, and I don’t want him to go and get himself hurt again.” He rocks back on his heels. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to go against this. I’m just trying to protect him, y’know.” 

Stensland swallows on a dry throat and forces out a smile. “It’s okay. I would have done the same thing with my sister.” 

Jimmy smiles at him. “I really am sorry. I just wanted to let you know. Before all this. I’m just… I’m gonna go finish getting ready now.” 

Stensland nods as Jimmy leaves the room. He lets out a deep breath and sits back down on the bed. His heart pounds in his chest. This really was an awful idea. He tries to push the thought out of his head; he can’t keep lingering on it. No matter what guilt or realizations he has, it’s too late to stop this. He is going to go out there and marry Clyde Logan. 

He’s going to go out there and get married, and in a few months, he’ll be a legal citizen. That is all that this was ever supposed to be, and that’s all it will stay. 

He takes another breath and straightens his posture. 

He’s got this. 

  


* * *

  


The wedding march plays over the stereo system as he walks out into the yard, hands clasped in front of him to keep him from picking at his fingers. He refuses to focus on that, instead, pays attention to his footsteps as he makes his way towards the aisle between rows of chairs. Clyde is already there. His hair is tied back, and his suit fits him perfectly. Stensland’s jaw slacks at the sight; he’s gorgeous. He almost trips over himself.

Clyde gives him a shy smile as he offers his arm. It takes second to regain his composure, to stop staring. He bites his lip before coming to his senses and lacing his arm with Clyde’s. 

And then, all eyes are on them as they make their way down the aisle. He never pictured his wedding like this. Though, he hasn’t had much thought on weddings at all, but this had never been an idea. 

But now, here he is. Walking down the aisle towards where Sam Bang stands in his mismatched suit with a stained t-shirt. Walking down the aisle where he’s being watched by a town full of people he barely even knows. Walking down the aisles filled with lies and heartbreak. 

Stensland chances a glance towards Clyde, his face hard to read past the small smile playing at the corner of his lips. He notices the small braid behind his ear leading up towards the bun at the back of his head; a simple thin gold ribbon laced into the point where it ties back the bun. It’s such a beautiful, simple detail, just like Clyde. 

Stensland doesn’t deserve any of this. 

Sam starts off the ceremony, and Stensland can barely bring himself to listen. All he hears is the faint echo of his heart as it races in his chest. He tries to think of the end goal of this. Clyde is just a friend doing him a favor. They’ll remain friends after this, right? They’ll go about their ways back home and it’ll be like nothing will change. Right? 

But there’s something in his mind that keeps whispering to him. Keeps telling him that things won’t be the same. That everything will be ruined. He’ll lose his greatest friend he’s had in a long time and the possibility of losing any real thing that could be between them—if he hasn’t lost that already. He’ll lose the sense of family that he’s gained and be sent back into the dark, cold, lonely world he’s used to. 

He would need a new bar, maybe a new town to prevent running into Clyde by accident. 

All of this was a stupid foolish idea. He never should have went into this with someone who he even thought he could even actually _like_. The fact he even had a crush on Clyde at the start of all of this doomed this idea from the beginning. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, quiet, a whisper, before he’s even proceeded the words in his mind. “I’m sorry.” 

Sam stops talking, and Stensland can feel all those eyes on him. All of Clyde’s family and friends staring at him, wondering what’s going on. He can’t bring himself to look at any of them. The guilt heightens. 

“Stens?’ Clyde sounds just as confused as he feels. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice a little louder this time, as he turns to face the group behind him. His eyes lock with Ms. Grayson’s, and then Jimmy’s, He can’t go through with this. “I… I have an confession to make.” He takes a deep breath. “I… I have an expired visa, and was about to deported.” 

“Stens,” Clyde says again, trying to reach out for him, but Stensland moves away. 

“I panicked. I… I couldn’t go back to Ireland, so I lied. And I had Clyde lie for me, as well. I dragged him into this fake engagement, and I lied to all of you.” 

He looks at the ground. After all these years, he’s still a disappointment. 

“And all of you are so, so wonderful. Clyde, you have a beautiful family. Don’t….” He shakes his head. His hands tremble at his sides. “I’m sorry.” 

He can’t think anymore, can’t take the feel of all the eyes on him anymore, so he runs. The world bursts into a chatter around him. He can’t think. He can’t hear someone calling his name. He has tunnel vision to a destination that he isn’t aware of yet. He just runs. Runs past the group of people watching him. Runs past the house and up the long, long driveway. 

He runs until he can’t run anymore. 

And when he can’t run anymore, he collapses. 

  


* * *

  


“I’m glad you finally came to your senses,” Ms. Grayson says from the plane seat next to him. Stensland barely hears the words coming from her mouth. 

The last twenty-four hours have been the worst he’s ever had. Ms. Grayson had found him on the side of the road, passed out, and brought him back to a hotel. He wanted to ask about Clyde, wanted to ask if he was okay and if things would be okay. Wanted to call him, but he knew better. If he calls, things will get complicated. If he calls, he’ll be in trouble again. 

He never should have started this. 

He stares out the window, at the clouds around them, as Ms. Grayson continues on, “Since you’re leaving voluntarily, Mr. Logan is safe from any charges. You, as well. Once we land, you’ll have 24 hours to head back to Ireland. If you have any troubles, please let me know.” 

Ireland… he could survive in Ireland. Maybe he could make amends with Teegan. Make new friends, maybe find a relationship. A real one this time. He can have a real life far, far away from here. 

He tunes out the rest of Ms. Grayson’s words. 

  


* * *

  


Stensland takes one last look around his apartment. Everything he’s owned since moving here rests in a pile of boxes by the door. He guesses he’s thankful that he doesn’t have any fond memories of this place. It’s time to move on; his fun has ended. He knew that he would need to go home eventually; he just wished it was under his own terms. 

He sighs and checks the time. There are thirty minutes before Ms. Grayson will be here. Thirty minutes before he’s being sent off to whatever is left for him back in his village. 

His hopes had been too high. Everything could have worked out fine for them. Everything was going well. If he hadn’t opened his mouth, he’d be married now. He’d be married and on his way to becoming an American citizen. 

But he had to go and open his mouth. 

He had to confess to everything because it was easier to break his own heart now than having it broken during the process of divorcing Clyde. There was no chance that they could have had anything. Clyde was far too out of his league. It was silly to even think that Clyde could have even seen him as anything. He was just a scrawny, quirky Irishman; Clyde could do so much better than him. 

Stensland forces the thoughts out of his head, focuses on playing with the pocket watch that he shouldn’t even have anymore before shoving it into his pocket. He can’t keep thinking about this. It’s time to move on; time to be that big, beautiful condor that he’s supposed to be. 

A knock on the door brings him back to reality. Ms. Grayson must be early. That’s fine. That’s absolutely okay. He doesn’t want to be here any longer anyway. 

He opens the door and the words disappear from the tip of his tongue the second he sees Clyde standing there, those too brown eyes stare at him with a plethora of emotions: fear, hope, loss, heartbreak. His breathing comes in quick pants, cheeks flushed like he had been running. Stensland blinks. Clyde couldn’t—why is he here?

His lips part a few times as he tries to form the words running through his head. There’s—there’s no reason for Clyde to be here. “Ho-how? What are you doing here, Clyde?”

“I can’t let you leave.” He bites at his lip. His eyes never leave Stensland. “I have spen—I wanted so long to try and ask you out, but I never—I never knew—and I never thought you… I was stupid to let you walk away from me. I should have went after you.” 

He stares at Clyde. His heart pounding in his chest. Does this—Clyde is—Clyde, what? Stensland watches as Clyde runs his hand through his hair, messing it up. The words are on the tip of his tongue. 

“I wish I had figured this out sooner. We coulda started all of this sooner and not have to worry about this. And I… I’ll completely understand if you don’t feel this way. I just… I needed to.” He looks at the ground and gulps, taking a second before speaking again. “You really are one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to me. I thought I was gonna hate this move, and then I met you. And I…” A deep breath. Those eyes dart up to look at him. “Will you marry me? Because I want to date you.” 

He feels his jaw slack. Everything slows down; the world coming to a halt as he processes the words. “I—what?” 

“Stensland,” he says as he reaches his hand out to take Stensland’s hand into his own. “I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. I don’t think I realized it until I was standing alone, in my sister's backyard.” He takes a deep breath. “Watching the man I love run away, and knowing he was going to get kicked out of the country. So, will you marry me?” 

Clyde looks at him with such a desperation in his eyes, pleading with him. Stensland can still feel his heart pounding, faster and faster with each passing second. This couldn’t be real. He was dreaming, hallucinating, whatever. That last hit on his bong before he packed it away had finally destroyed his mind or whatever it was that his mother always warned him about. There is no way Clyde Logan is standing at his door and asking him to marry him. Clyde could in no way like him. 

But, yet, here he was. 

And Stensland has to say something. 

“It’s—it’s fine if you don’t want to. I’ll—” Clyde bites at his lip.

“Yes.” 

Clyde stops and looks at him. “What?” 

“Yes,” Stensland repeats, taking a step closer to him, squeezing his hand. “Yes, Clyde Logan, I will marry you.” 

Clyde hesitates for a whole two seconds before he steps forward. His robotic hand reaches up gently to cup at Stensland’s jaw while Stensland closes the gap between them and presses their lips together. It’s soft and gentle; nothing like that one they’d share in West Virginia, influenced by the hormones and intoxication. Clyde’s lips feel soft and pillowy against his own. For a second, he wonders how they’d feel on this rest of him, but he pushes the thought out of his mind. They’d have time for all of that later; later that night, maybe next week or a month from now, or even years. They could have all the time in the world.

He feels high on all the possibilities.

Clyde pulls away with a gentle smile tugging at his lips. Pink stains his cheeks while stars dance in his eyes. He looks so happy. And it’s all because of _him_. Stensland can’t stop himself from beaming..

  


* * *

  


**\- One Year Later -**

“Clyde, can I please open my eyes now? I have no idea where I’m going.” 

“Do you not trust me?” Clyde asks, with a soft chuckle as he leads Stensland through the hallway, preventing him from running into another wall. 

“It’s not that. I just don’t understand why my eyes need to be shut for this.”

“You’ll see.” 

It feels like forever before they finally stop walking. He hears the familiar sounds of keys jangling and a door being opened. And then he’s walking again and Stensland would really just love to be able to see. 

He feels Clyde’s hand squeeze at his shoulders before his soft voice whispers into his ear, “You can open your eyes now.” 

And when he does, his breath is taken away. They’re back at Clyde’s apartment, but instead of the usual stack of books and water bottles everywhere, all he can see are candles that have set the dim lighting of the room. Rose petals are scattered across the floor and counters, and if he looks closely enough, he can see the small heart-shaped confetti mixed in. Confusion takes over. Wha—

He remembers. 

Back in West Virginia. When Mellie had been asking about their proposal, he had made up the story on the spot. And Clyde—

Clyde _remembered_.

Which means….

He looks back towards Clyde to find him kneeling on the ground next to him. Warmth floods through him as his hand clutches at his chest. He can feel the tears building up in the corner of his eyes. 

“Stensland,” Clyde starts, with so much warmth and love in his face that Stensland loses his breath. “I know—I know we had a rocky start. And I know, it hasn’t been that long, but, I don’t want to risk losing you again. Will you marry me?” 

A tear trails down his cheek as he starts to nod his head. He tries to speak, but sob comes out instead. Then Clyde’s taking his hand, carefully, gently, and sliding the silver band onto his finger. The fit is a bit too off, a bit too loose around his finger. It takes Stensland a second to remember the familiar feel; it must be the same ring from before. The one he thought he had lost, the one kept in the drawer of his bedside table that he would take out on those nights he spent alone, the one Clyde must have stolen for this. 

And Stensland is still at a loss of words, so, he wraps his arms around Clyde when he stands. 

Clyde’s arms wrap around him, holding him tight as he kisses the side of his head. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 


End file.
